


Loki's Oracle

by LLForrester



Category: Loki - Fandom, Thor - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Oracle - Freeform, Sweet Loki, young loki, young thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLForrester/pseuds/LLForrester
Summary: "[Frigga] is no longer in her children's room. A moment ago she had gazed down at them, lit dimly by candlelight. Now, bright moonlight illuminated a smaller room, a smaller bed, with only two people in it.Two adults. Naked, intertwined, sleeping."This is the story of a child, subject of a prophecy, found by Loki and Thor, who shapes the life and future of one of the young gods.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48





	1. Frigga's Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken these characters from both the Marvel Universe and Norse mythology. I AM NOT FOLLOWING MARVEL OR NORSE CANON. I am making things up so they may not fit into your ideas of how things are in the Marvel Universe, prose Edda or poetry Edda.
> 
> This work contains graphic, consensual sex.
> 
> Come for the erotica, stay for the story.

Frigga stands silently in the children's room, feeling equal parts exasperation and amusement. She loves everything about these precious minutes when, before taking herself to her own bed, she can observe her children in relative stillness in the flickering candlelight.

"Relative," because Thor is never still. Even in his sleep, the nine-year-old clenches his hands and teeth, and kicks, fighting amazing battles and dreaming himself glorious in war. 

Her other son is exactly the opposite. Still as a lake, Loki lies on his back, long legs crossed at the ankles. His face is serene, save for the faint line between his brows, as if he is thinking deeply. Loki is always thinking. 

Between the two in the huge bed lies the gift her boys brought her today. The child is half the boys' age, and size, and started out the night in her own bed, in a room down the hall. When, shortly after midnight, the Ama had flown into Frigga's quarters, babbling and weeping that "the wee child was gone!", Frigga closed her eyes and knew at once where to find her. 

From the first moment that morning when the boys had burst into the throne room to show off their find, the little girl was attached, almost literally, to Loki. Frigga was not surprised to find her here, now, thumb in her mouth 

_She's too old for that, Frigga thinks. We must break that habit_

__

facing Thor but back pressed firmly to Loki's side. One wing curls beneath her, the other stretches across Loki like a blanket. 

Wings. A breath escapes Frigga's lips. Other children brought home lost puppies. Hers had brought her a tiny goddess, with wings, whose only spoken words, so far, had been "Loki" and "no." 

Frigga thinks, briefly, about picking the child up and putting her back in her own room. However, she remembers all too clearly the child's screams, when they had attempted to take her to bathe and feed her. Wearing only Thor's tunic and Loki's vest, she shivered, clinging to Loki's leg. Her hair was matted with blood, her legs scratched and muddy. 

After the initial shock, and Thor's breathless retelling of how they had found her, Odin stepped in. "Call the Ama. Get this child bathed and dressed appropriately." 

The boys' Ama came and reached for the little girl. "Come, Princess. Let's get you cleaned up, and then we'll find a pretty dress for-" 

Her shrieks brought the guards running. The child buried her face in Loki's waist, hyperventilating and trembling. The boy knelt, bringing her into his arms, his face close to hers. He spoke softly, seriously, until she quieted. 

A chill shrouds Frigga as she recalls how Loki slowly, deliberately reached around to the girl's back and gently took hold of her wing where it poked out from beneath her makeshift dress. Loki's eyes closed for a moment; the child shuddered fiercely, then stilled. A finger went to her mouth and her wide green eyes fixed solemnly on Loki's. 

Thor reached over and stroked the child's head, smiling. When his hand came close to her wing Loki shot him a look that froze Thor. Thor withdrew. 

Loki stood, and with his eyes still locked on the girl's, said, "bring her back as soon as she's bathed and dressed, and she will eat with us." 

After a quick glance at the expressionless Frigga, the Ama bowed slightly. "Yes, my Prince." She reached out a hand. "Will you come with me, my Lady?" With another glance at Loki, the child pulled her finger from her mouth and took the Ama's hand. 

"Her name," Loki stated clearly, "is Taliesin." 

"How do you know this?" Odin's voice thundered. 

"She told us," Thor replied simply, looking wide-eyed at his father. 

Ultimately Taliesin had submitted to the servants' attentions, allowing herself to be bathed and examined for wounds. A relatively small cut on her scalp accounted for the blood in her hair; otherwise, she was merely scratched and bruised, hungry, thirsty, sad, and frightened from being lost 

_Abandoned to die, the boys insisted_

in the frozen wood. 

Recalling herself to the present, Frigga smiles and breathes in the scent she loves so well. The smell of her boys, scrubbed in their baths, clean hair, clean linens. 

And the smell of the small goddess. 

She inhales. And listens. Thor is mumbling, Taliesin snoring softly. Loki, still as always. 

A sensation she has not felt in a very long time brushes the back of Frigga's eyes. A sensation of movement, of standing up in a small boat. She closes her eyes and feels the earth shift. She throws out a hand to steady herself, inhales sharply and opens her eyes. 

And stops breathing for a moment. 

She is no longer in her children's room. A moment ago she had gazed down at them, lit dimly by candlelight. Now, bright moonlight illuminated a smaller room, a smaller bed, with only two people in it. 

Two adults. Naked, intertwined, sleeping. 

Frigga is the most skilled sorceress in Asgard. She knows she is experiencing a vision not of her own calling. One she must heed for a reason as yet unknown. 

Thor is not there. She recognizes Loki immediately, although he is easily ten or twelve years older. His alabaster skin glows in the blue moonlight. He has grown tall. His black hair has grown too, fitting for a man of Asgard. It falls across his neck and well below his collarbone. His lean face bears the same expression: serene, thoughtful. Long-lashed eyes closed. 

Frigga's emotions surge from her core as a woman. She regards her son's sleeping, slender yet muscular form with love and pride. 

Wide shoulders, muscular arms, a flat, firm stomach. Firm, taut thighs. Gods, she thinks. The boy's legs just go on, and on! Frigga sighs. Her gaze drops. 

And then. 

_Frigga is sixteen years old again. A healthy, lusty maiden with friends just the same. Sneaking, breathless, chilly with adventure as they creep upon her friend Gaia's brother, and his friends, bathing naked in the icy river._

_What they are doing is so naughty, they are delirious and giddy as they peer through the bushes. So many young, beautiful, naked gods._

_Frigga's best friend, Lily, gasps. "Look at Birgir! He, he is..."_

_"Armed like a king!" Sofi cries._

_The young goddesses shriek with laughter and bear themselves away from the wood and the water, before they can be caught._

_That becomes their code, henceforth, "armed like a king." A phrase that sets them giggling and crying with laughter. One they all pray they can use in the future, in reference to their own lovers._

The young god before her is armed like a king. He is a man now, not an eight-year-old boy. He is most well endowed; even sleeping, unaroused, he is... 

A small movement from the bed draws her attention. A little cat stands from Loki's feet, stretches, yawns enormously, and fixes its gaze on Frigga. She turns her eyes away from her son, to his lover. She would recognize the slim, graceful form even if it were not for the wings. 

Taliesin lies on her right side, right arm and wing folded beneath her, left arm, leg, and wing thrown across Loki. She too, has grown. She is an adult now. Her tangled, silvery hair falls down her back to her waist. Her full breast presses against Loki's ribs. 

The cat stretches again, and flops heavily across Taliesin's legs. Taliesin stirs, then her emerald eyes open and fix on Loki's face.

Loki smiles, opening his eyes to look at her. He cups her face with his hand as he lifts himself onto his elbow. In a moment he is kissing her - her eyes, her face, her lips, her breast. He grins as he reaches down to cup the hot, soft spot between her legs. Taliesin's head falls back with a throaty chuckle as Loki rolls her to her back, and she opens her legs to him. 

Frigga looks away, but not before she sees Loki, fully erect now 

_armed like a king, indeed!_

thrust himself into Taliesin, who cries out. Loki groans and the earth once again shudders under Frigga.

She opens her eyes to find herself in candlelit room, gazing down at three children sleeping soundly in a huge bed. 

No, two children sleeping. One awake, one pair of emerald eyes watching her. 

"Mumma?" Loki queries softly.

Frigga breathes in deeply, trying to reorient herself. "Go back to sleep, love, Mumma's just checking on you."

"Mother, what's wrong?" Loki moves to sit up, carefully shifting Taliesin's wing off him. The child makes a small sound and, without opening her eyes, reaches a hand behind her to catch hold of Loki's night shirt. She becomes still again.

Loki looks down at her and smiles. Almost without thought he pats her hip, looking back to Frigga. Frigga notices his hand remains there, his thumb stroking her soothingly. 

She shakes her head. "Nothing's wrong. But." She moves to sit gently on the end of the bed, knowing nothing short of Ragnarok would wake Thor, not as sure about the little one. "She should be in her own bed, Loki."

Loki's hand tightens. His jaw clenches. He looks down at Taliesin, whispers, "no, Mumma, please."

"Loki, she's not a pet."

"I know she's not!" Loki's eyes flash, and Frigga is reminded of all the sorcery she has been teaching him. She opens her mouth but he speaks over her. "She's a goddess. Isn't she?" 

Frigga considers. She and Odin have not yet discussed how they are going to manage this. "Yes," she replies carefully. 

Loki's quiet for only a moment. "They didn't come tonight," he whispers. "I didn't wake up once, until just now."

Frigga stares at the boy, who looks down at his hand on the little goddess's hip. 

_They didn't come tonight. The tall, blue people with red eyes, who have terrorized Loki at night, as long as they both can remember. The boy has rarely, if ever, slept the entire night through._

"She's keeping me safe." He looks, pleading, into Frigga's eyes. "Please."

"Alright, Loki." She brushes his hair back from his face. A quick moment from her vision comes

_Loki's long, black hair flowing down his back, across his bare chest. And hers._

"When you're both older, Loki, it will have to change. But for now, go back to sleep, my love."

__


	2. Found

_Earlier that day_

“Thor! Would you stop!”

Loki’s exasperated hiss cuts through the air. “You’re noisier than a wounded boar!”

“Sorry!” Thor replies contritely, pushing through the snowy underbrush with a loud crack. “I’m trying, Brother, it’s just-”

They both glimpse something in the snow, something pink and silver, and fall silent at the same time. After a moment they confer in whispers, and conclude they are both seeing wings, but can’t clearly discern any other features. 

Thor excitedly draws his bow. Loki flings out his hand and pushes the arrow down. “Stop. What are you thinking?” 

“Dinner!” Thor whispers loudly. “What do you think Papa will say when-” 

“Thor, wait. You can’t shoot yet. What if it’s a nesting mother?” 

“Oh.” Disappointed, Thor squints. “It looks like a very big bird.” 

The two young princes of Asgard creep through the brush, toward the pair of wings, which pulse slowly, no other movement apparent. 

“Do you think-” Thor begins. 

But Loki, who is closer to the mystery, pulls up sharply. “Stop - put that down!” 

“What-” 

“It’s a baby,” Loki whispers. “He has wings.” 

He and Thor crawl closer to the vision, pushing branches out of their way. They stare down in amazement at a shivering, naked child, curled with head between its knees. 

“Hey there.” Loki lowers himself to kneel in the snow next to the tiny creature. “Hey.” He looks at Thor with wide eyes. “He has wings! What kind of people have wings?” 

Thor crouches, sitting on his heels. “I don’t know. Elves, maybe?” 

Loki shakes his head, placing a tentative hand on the little back. His touch elicits a muffled cry as the child turns over, staring with frightened eyes. 

“Look.” Thor points out the obvious. “His eyes are green, just like yours.” 

“Don’t be afraid,” Loki whispers, his gaze locked on the child’s. “We won’t hurt you. Where’s your mummy? Where’s your family? Are you lost?” 

There is no reply from the little one, only renewed trembling. 

“He’s cold,” Thor observes. 

“And a little bloody. Maybe he’s hurt.” Loki has noticed blood on the little face, and in its strangely silver hair. “Here,” he says. “Let us help you.” He manages to pull the shivering child into a sitting position, and pulls off his vest. Clumsily he puts the vest on the child backwards, so that the wings are accommodated. “Come, baby,” he coaches. “Can you stand up?” 

Using Loki’s hands for assistance, the child stands. 

“Thor. Thor! Give me your tunic, right now!” 

Scowling, Thor takes off his vest, then pulls his tunic over his head. “Why?” 

“It covers better. Thor, this is a little girl.” 

Loki struggles with the logistics of getting all three of them home at least partially clothed, with the additional challenge of dressing someone with wings. He decides to start over. He removes the vest, then tries to put Thor’s tunic over the child’s head. She obediently raises her arms over her head, waiting. He huffs and takes his knife from his hip. “I need to slit the tunic, Thor, that way her wings-” 

“No! No, no. That’s the only one I have right now that’s not too tight! Please, Loki.” 

Loki rocks back on his heels, regarding the shivering child before him. Her arms are still raised. He puts his fingers under her chin. “Sweetheart. Can you fold your wings? Make them, you know, flat, so the blouse can go over them?” 

She only stares at him, slowly lowering her arms, shaking with cold and fear. 

“Here. Like this.” Loki reaches around her and takes a wing in each hand. Though his touch is gentle, the result is stunning. 

Both he and the child gasp and freeze in position, eyes locked. Loki feels current running through his fingers and he cannot open them. The little girl sinks to her knees. 

“Loki? Loki!” Thor reaches for his brother’s arms and pulls. Loki falls back onto his seat even as the girl pitches forward onto her face. Thor lifts the child out of the snow and looks helplessly at his brother. “Loki. Loki!” 

Loki’s teeth are gritted as he struggles to his knees. His legs and backside are wet and cold and now he is shaking too. He reaches behind the girl’s back and with no further incident folds her wings softly, gently, against her back. “Give me that.” 

He holds his hand out to Thor who places his tunic in it wordlessly. Loki pulls the child into a standing position, which she manages with some difficulty, leaning heavily on his hand. “Here,” he says softly. “Let’s get this on you. You’re freezing.” Again, the child raises her arms and Loki fits the tunic over them. The wings bulge, but seem comfortably covered. 

“What happened?” Thor asks anxiously. “Did that hurt? Did it tickle?” He reaches a tentative hand toward the neck of the blouse where the wings peek out. 

Loki’s hand moves as swiftly as a viper in catching his brother’s arm. “Don’t touch her wings. Ever.”


	3. Loki Makes Magic

The four children sprawl on the floor of the nursery. When they were very young, the princes slept in this room. Now it is filled with toys and games, and lately, plush animals for the little princess.

Thor and Taliesin lie on their stomachs, Sif on her back. Loki sits, legs crossed, and all gaze at the handful of multi-colored, pebble-sized, sparkling orbs that alternately spin, dance, and float in a circle on the floor.

“That one.” Taliesin points at a green crystal marble.

“You always pick that!” Thor scoffs.

“Leave her alone,” Sif yawns. “She can pick what she wants.”

“Like Loki’s eyes,” the child says, smiling up at him.

“Yours too, Princess,” Loki replies. “Here you go.” He moves his hands in a very specific way they are unable to follow, and frowns with concentration. “Here,” he says again.

The four watch intently as the little marble rises from the circle into the air above their heads. It floats, dips a little as if it’s going to drop, then shoots up nearly to the ceiling. There, as it spins dizzyingly, Loki gestures again. The marble shimmers, painting a green picture in the air.

“Oh!” Taliesin cries. “A kitty!”

Her joy fills Loki with a feeling he is unable to describe. It is more than pleasure he feels, making the little girl so happy; it expands his chest, makes his face warm, and occasionally makes his eyes water.

The sparkling green magic cat drops toward them, and Taliesin reaches up, laughing with delight. It turns to flowering fireworks and showers all four with cool sparks. She cheers, clapping, wings beating at her back. “Loki! More! Do more!”

Thor looks at her from the corner of his eye. He too, is affected by her laughter and joy, and, as rare as they are, her tears. He has come to love her nearly as much as he loves his brother. But even at the age of ten, he recognizes that she and Loki have a connection that even he does not have with his brother. He understands that it has everything to do with the day they found her, the way everything changed when Loki touched her wings.

He knows never to touch her there. Everyone in the palace knows it. Occasionally the Amas, or Frigga, will compel the girl to endure their touch on the unusual appendages, during baths or dressmaking. No one but Thor knows the anguish this causes Loki. Even if they’re not in the same room, Loki knows if someone is touching Taliesin’s wings. He grows white-faced and short of breath until it is over.

“Wait, Tali.” Sif sits up. “It’s my turn.”

Frigga moves silently from the doorway where she has been watching her children play. She has rarely had to intervene, though the boys get rough with each other at times they are slightly less warlike with Taliesin. Thor and Loki play with her like another, littler brother and the girl takes it in stride. She shows off any play-battle-earned bruises proudly. 

Frigga approaches the king in his chambers. “Odin, I need to know what we’re going to do. The girl’s been here for a full season, and more. The boys love her. I love her. I cannot tolerate this uncertainty much longer.” Frigga has lost her battle to stifle the aggravation she’s feeling.

The Allfather rubs his brow. “My queen, I had not imagined we would have to make any decisions for some time. She’s virtually a baby. What’s the hurry?”

“Odin. We are not giving this child back to the Vanir. We. Are. Not.”

“But my dear, we have plenty of time--”

Frigga rises from her seat with such energy Odin thinks, for a brief moment, that she means to attack him. “No. No, my king. I refuse to love this child for another ten years, to teach her how to be a goddess, and a woman, and then hand her over to whomever you may choose, for the bride price of averting war.”

“Frigga. We will have to part with her sometime. Daughters, loved or otherwise, are married off once they reach the age of their moon blood. And when they are royalty,” he raises his eyebrows, “they are used to further treaties.

“As you were yourself, my dear,” he finishes softly.

“Odin.” It distresses Frigga to hear the sound of desperation in her own voice. “What if we raised her, without any thought of using her to our own ends? What if we allowed her to choose her own destiny? To marry whom she will?”

_Loki leans up on one elbow, smiling down at his love. Taliesin strokes his face, brushing long strands of black hair behind his ears. He kisses her, gently at first, then with increasing hunger as his hand travels down her body – her throat, her breasts, her stomach, between her legs, inserting his fingers there to wrest a deep groan from her._

This time, Frigga cannot look away.

_“Come to me, my love,” Loki whispers. “My queen. My Valhalla.”_

_Taliesin’s wing strokes Loki’s back as she writhes and pants beneath him. It brushes his spine, his hips, his backside, and then, lightly, lightly, between his legs. A hiss escapes him as he removes his fingers from inside her and pushes her thighs apart. She wraps her legs around his waist as he enters her, and they move as one._

The vision goes as swiftly as it came. Frigga sits heavily.

“My dear?” Odin sits forward, concerned. “Frigga?”

“Odin. I am your most loyal subject, your loving queen. And I tell you from my heart that this child may not easily submit to being part of any plan. She’s not Aesir, my Lord, and something tells me we may not disregard her will.”


	4. Saving Asgard

Loki has taken a book from the library and strolls toward his room, to the window seat overlooking the garden, where he loves to sit and read. It is a quiet afternoon and he is reading as he walks. As he enters the room he hears running, then stumbles as he feels a collision against his lower back and legs. He turns to see Taliesin bounce off him and fall to her backside on the floor, wings beating frantically. 

She is wearing Thor’s helmet, which, at five years old, she is engulfed by and cannot see out of. She is dressed in a kitty costume that the Ama sewed for her, and she is wielding a small, wooden rooster that was given as a gift. 

Thor barrels into the room behind her, sliding to a halt just in time to avoid running over her. 

“Oof,” she says succinctly, pulling the helmet off to see what she’s run into. “Loki’s bum.” 

“I shall slay it for you, Princess!” Thor shouts. He waves his practice sword, which is wooden and blunt. 

“No!” Taliesin scrambles to her feet, teeth bared. “I will!” 

Bemused, Loki holds a hand against her forehead, as she flails and struggles to reach him so she can bite his backside. “Thor?” 

Thor turns away so he can safely slash the air with his sword. “We are saving Asgard!” He roars. 

“Saving Asgard!” Taliesin echoes, still fighting Loki’s hand to be free. 

Loki leans down so he is face to face with her. “Slow down, my Lady Berserker.” She relaxes for a moment as he scoops her up to hold her under his arm. “Thor, you’ve got her all wound up, and she should be taking a nap.” 

“No naps!” Taliesin screams, falling limp so that Loki nearly drops her. 

“No naps! No naps in Asgard!” Thor yells, waving his sword. 

“Thor - “ 

“I know! Tali, let’s show Loki our fountain!” Thor exclaims. 

“Oooh! Fountain! Come here, Loki!” She squirms free of his grip and takes Thor by the hand. “Here,” she directs him, bossily. She has learned that the two big boys are helpless to deny her demands. 

Amused, Loki follows them to the middle of the room. 

“Here,” Taliesin drags Thor closer to the bed. “In case you drop me again.” 

Loki’s brow furrows. “Drop her? Thor - “ 

“Don’t worry, Brother. We’ve been practicing.” 

“Need some water,” the little princess says. “Fountains have water.” 

“Right there.” Loki points. “Your cup is by the bed. Thor, what exactly - “ 

“Watch!” Thor heaves Taliesin above his head, balancing her (impressively, Loki is forced to admit) on his hands. 

Steadying herself, Taliesin slowly bends over, then lifts one leg so that it is straight out behind her. Her arms and wings spread out from her sides and her head goes up. A moment in this pose, then she jets the water she’s stored in her cheeks out in a perfect arc. 

Loki bursts into surprised laughter. 

“Go, Tali,” Thor whispers loudly. “Fly!” He bends so suddenly that Taliesin is airborne, falling, wings flapping. It is quickly apparent that she cannot, in fact, fly. 

An instant before she hits the ground, Loki’s hand points from his side at her, surrounding her in a green fog that holds her an inch above the floor. 

“Thor!” Loki roars. 

“Oops,” Thor replies meekly. “I thought it would work, this time.” 

Loki growls, gestures again, removing the fog, and Taliesin falls with a soft thump to the floor. “Ow!” She yells. 

“Oh, stop,” Loki tells her, leaning to pick her up. “That didn’t hurt, and you know it.” 

“Hurt my feelings.” 

Thor snickers, and Loki laughs. “Where are your feelings, Princess? Show me where you’re hurt, and I’ll kiss it and make it better.” 

The child thinks for a moment, with a finger in her mouth. Then, she points to her cheek. “Here. Kisses go here.” 

“Right.” Loki obliges, then slings her over his shoulder. “Come, Tali, I have a book to read to you. Let’s go sit on the bed.” 

“What book?” 

He drops her onto the bed so that it, and she, bounce a little, knowing it will make her laugh. Together they pile the bed pillows up so they can lean against them as he reads. Taliesin pushes her way under Loki’s arm, resting her head on his chest. 

He opens the book. “There aren’t many pictures here,” he tells her. “Not like the books Mumma reads us.” 

Thor sits gingerly on the end of the bed. At ten, he believes he is getting too old for some stories. He is enthralled by stories of ancient gods and old wars. “What’s it about?” He asks warily. 

“Goddesses,” Loki replies. “Goddesses, like you, Tali, and Mumma, and Sif.” He looks down to see Taliesin’s reaction. She is staring up at him with her wide green eyes, her thumb inching toward her mouth. He chuckles, and takes her hand in his own. “This is about Sjofn, a goddess whose name means ‘love.' She was part of the Aesir, long ago, before we had a treaty with Vanaheim. She may be - “ 

“A treaty!” Thor pipes up. “That means there was a war, right?” 

“Probably. But this book is not about that. It’s - “ 

“War with the Vanir! They wanted our kingdom but we fought them, and beat them. And then - “ 

“Thor!” Loki snaps. 

“Sorry.” Thor subsides. 

“Tali, do you want me to read about the goddesses, or do you want Thor to tell us about the war between the Aesir and the Vanir?” He looks down, but her eyes are already closed, and she is breathing softly through her mouth. 

“Well, that didn’t take very long,” Thor observes, hopping off the bed. “Let’s go play.” 

Loki sighs and closes his book. “Thor, go tell Ama that Tali’s sleeping and we’re going outside.” He carefully extricates himself from Taliesin’s grip, and lays the sleeping child back carefully on the bed. He pulls a blanket over her, then leans to kiss her on the cheek again. “Sleep tight, little one.”


	5. Taliesin’s Story

“Taliesin, do I frighten you?” 

Taliesin stands before the throne, trying not to fidget, to twist her fingers, or put them in her mouth. “No, Allfather,” she whispers. 

Odin watches her, hiding his amusement. He has never had much to do with this child, who, as ever, has been under the care of his wife and sons. He is always aware of her existence, though, and now strives for a way to tell her this, and why. 

“Come here, little one,” he says kindly, patting the arm of his chair. “You’re too grown up to sit in my lap, but sit here, my dear, next to me.” 

Legs shaking, she chooses a step to sit on next to Odin’s throne. She wraps her arms around her knees and gazes up at the king. 

“You know we love you, Taliesin,” he begins. 

“Yes, Allfather.” 

“Frigga and I love you as we love our own children.” 

“Yes, Allfather.” 

“And you know our children love you like a sister.” 

She smiles. “Yes.” 

“You know then, do you, that you came from another place, another realm?” 

Taliesin unconsciously puts her finger in her mouth to chew the nail. Odin notes, with fascination, that her wings are slowly flattening against her back, curling up like the petals of a flower at night. “I don’t remember,” she says softly. “I remember being cold, in the forest. The snow. I was frightened, and so cold. My mumma did not come when I cried for her.” 

She looks up at Odin, green eyes wide and a little teary. “Loki came, and saved me. Loki and Thor.” 

Despite his millennia as a warrior, Odin is moved. “Yes, yes,” he says gruffly, hiding his emotion. “You remember nothing before that?” 

Taliesin casts her eyes to the side, thinking. “Not much, my lord. A woman. She was maybe my mother, but she didn’t have wings, like me.” 

Odin is pleased she has provided this opening. “No one has wings like you, my dear.” 

A movement near the doorway catches his eye, and he fairly sags with relief. “Frigga!” He calls. “Come, my queen, join us.” 

Taliesin, who is seven or eight years old, has never before been alone with Odin. Her joy at seeing Frigga enter the room is unfeigned. She stands, arms out. “Mumma!” 

Frigga folds Taliesin into a hug as she exchanges a look with Odin over her head. “Am I interrupting, my lord?” She is amused by the discomfort she feels in the room. 

“No, not at all, my dear. Sit.” 

“Certainly, sire, but.” Frigga hesitates. 

“My dear?” 

“May I suggest we include Thor and Loki in this discussion?” As Odin hesitates, she adds, “I believe it to the best, my king.” 

Odin sighs. “Very well.” 

Frigga sends a guard to round up the two young princes, who arrive, loud and breathless in a few short minutes. The boys are red-faced and sweaty and hyperactive, but well trained enough to bring themselves under control upon entering the throne room. 

Thor throws himself into Frigga’s arms to give her a hearty hug. Loki greets his mother and moves directly toward the throne to sit next to Taliesin. As they grin at each other, Odin notices the girl’s wings have opened fully, and now display beautifully across her back. 

“Your Lady Mother,” Odin gestures expansively at Frigga, “has a special story to share. My queen?” 

As she seats herself on her own throne, Frigga gives Odin a look that he would tolerate from no other person, let alone reward with a low chuckle. “You are a far better storyteller than I,” the king adds. “I was just telling Taliesin that no one else has wings like hers.” 

Loki scoots close to Taliesin so that their legs are touching. Thor sits on the floor near Frigga, and the three turn expectant eyes upon her. “You remember, my dears, we’ve talked about the different realms of our world - “ 

“Swartalfheim!” Thor shouts. “That’s where the dark elves, the dwarves live, and they - “ 

“Hel,” Loki says. “If you don’t die honorably in battle, you don’t get to go to Valhalla. You go to - “ 

“Children,” Frigga admonishes them. “Who’s telling this story?” 

“Shush!” Taliesin puts a finger on her lips and scowls at both boys. 

“Sorry, Mumma.” 

Frigga smiles. “We must talk about Vanaheim, the home of the Vanir.” 

“Mumma? I thought Vanir lived here, in Asgard?” 

“Some do. Long, long ago, after the war between the Aesir and the Vanir, a treaty was forged so we could live together, in peace. Some Vanir stayed here, to embody their goodwill and our peace.” 

She glances at Odin, who gives her a wink. “In fact,” Frigga continues, smiling at her husband. “There are Vanir right here in the palace.” 

“Really, Mum? Who?” Loki leans forward. 

“You may be very surprised,” Frigga teases. 

“Who, Mumma, who?” Taliesin asks breathlessly, clutching Loki’s arm. 

“You, my darling.” Gazing into the girl’s wide eyes, Frigga laughs and touches her gently on the nose. “You, and Sif, too.” 

Taliesin’s face reddens as Thor and Loki stare at her. “Me,” she says, weakly. 

“Yes, darling. You, and Sif, and I. I am Vanir.” Frigga smiles and waits. All three children are staring at her, open-mouthed. At last she laughs. “Why are you so surprised? You already know there are Vanir amongst us.” 

“But,” is all Thor can say. 

Taliesin seems stunned, holding Loki’s arm so tightly it begins to hurt. Without looking at her, he gently pries her fingers off and entwines them in his own. “But Mum,” he whispers. “Vanir don’t have wings.” 

“Ah yes!” Frigga agrees. “Except this one.” She smiles lovingly at Taliesin. “Now.” She lowers her voice. “We come to the prophecy.” 

She pauses, looking at the three expectant faces watching her. For a brief moment, her mind wanders, reliving a fond memory. 

Not so long ago, she sat in a large armchair before a roaring fire in the nursery, with the sleepy girl child in her lap, and her two boys sprawled at her feet, storybook spread across her knees. Thor is ten, Loki nine, and Taliesin, who has been with them for a little over a year, is maybe six. 

Thor is grinning at her through his shaggy blond hair. His eyes glint in the firelight. “When I’m big, I will take my sword and slay Nidhogg!” He makes slashing movements to illustrate his victory over the dragon resident of Niflheim, whom Frigga has told them gnaws on the roots of the great tree, Yggdrasil. 

Loki scoffs. “If Allfather could not slay him, Thor, then you - “ 

“Hush, both of you,” Frigga admonishes them, smiling. “The inhabitant of the great tree of life, Yggdrasil, is Ratatosk, a squirrel who likes to make trouble.” 

“Makes good eating, if you can catch him,“ Thor whispers loudly to Loki, who snickers. 

“And that,” says Frigga, closing the book, “is enough for tonight.” 

“Oh, Mumma!” Thor complains. “Just a little more!” 

“Not tonight, love.” Frigga sees that Taliesin has fallen asleep. “Bedtime now. More tomorrow.” 

She stands carefully, Taliesin in one arm as she tucks the book into the chair. All three of her children smell sweet from their baths. She nuzzles the little girl, loving the soft skin and the childish scent. 

Loki is standing with his arms out. “I’ll take her,” he says, matter-of-factly. 

“Loki, don’t you think she should sleep in her own bed?” 

“Nooooo!” Thor cries, doing a little stomping war dance before the fire. “She’s nice and warm on my back. Loki’s like ice!” 

Loki shoots his brother a scowl. “You know she’ll just get up in the night, Mum. She always ends up with us. And Thor’s right. She’s very warm.” 

“Someday you will all be too old to share a bed, you know.” Frigga bends to place the child in Loki’s arms. She watches him. She remembers her vision – her beautiful son and his beautiful lover. 

“She’s just a baby,” Thor points out, almost as if hearing his mother’s thoughts. “When we’re grown up we won’t fit in our bed!” 

Frigga smiles and sends them to their room. She follows, and, unnoticed, watches from the doorless entryway as Loki carefully sets Taliesin in the bed, then climbs over her to the far side. Thor sits on the edge, then gives the sleeping girl an unceremonious shove into the middle of the bed. “I. Need. ROOM!” He bellows. 

“Thor! Quiet down now.” Frigga moves to pull a blanket over them. “Ama is already asleep.” She leans to kiss Thor, who kisses her back, and then, as if someone had pulled a lever, is sound asleep. 

“Good night, my love,” she whispers, kissing Loki. 

“Mumma?” He says softly. “Why can’t we all sleep together when we’re grown up?” 

“Loki. You’ll understand when you’re grown up.” 

He sits up in the bed, arms crossed on his chest, and scowls at her through his shaggy, dark hair. “I hate when you say that.” 

Frigga laughs, then sits on the bed near his feet. “Son, you know there are grown-up things, and there are children’s things. We’ve talked about this.” 

He uncrosses his arms with a huff, and, almost unthinkingly, reaches over to take one of Taliesin’s wings in his fingers. The sleeping child’s back arches; she takes a deep breath, then becomes quiet again. He looks at Frigga. “Nobody else can do that.” 

Frigga feels, weirdly, as if she were standing on a precipice. “And why is that, Loki?” She murmurs. 

He removes his hand from Taliesin’s wing, and strokes her hair. “Because I did it first?” He wraps a lock of the long, silver hair around his fingers. “Well, no,” he reconsiders. “It’s because she’s meant to be mine.” 

“Loki,” she chides. “You cannot own a person.” 

“No, not like that.” The boy moves his fingers to Taliesin’s forehead. He strokes it, runs his forefinger down the bridge of her nose, then cups her chin and strokes her lips with his thumb, an unsettlingly adult gesture. “She’s mine,” he whispers. “But I’m hers, too.” 

Frigga is roused from her memory by Thor shaking her arm, her entire family staring in concern. Odin leans forward on his throne, and Loki has pulled Taliesin into the protective crook of his arm. 

“Mum! Mumma!” 

She turns her head and blinks. “I’m well, Thor, let me go, darling.” She laughs. “I was thinking of bedtime stories.” 

“You were telling about a prophecy, Mum,” Loki reminds her, gently. 

“Yes.” Frigga meets his eyes, and smiles lovingly. “It was prophesied, to the Vanir, before they left Vanaheim, that a child would be born to them who could see the future, that they could use to make peace with their enemies. 

“Now, there’s another, different prophecy, that an unusual child would be born. A child with wings.” 

“Is she the one who can tell the future, Mumma?” 

Frigga shrugs. “The Vanir think so.” 

Loki shifts and pulls Taliesin into his lap. Frigga’s eyes meet Odin’s and the king scowls briefly. “So why,” the boy asks, tossing his long hair out of his face, “did they abandon her in the woods?” 

“Ah, Loki,” Odin interjects. “That is a good question. One not covered by the prophecy.”


	6. Changes

Loki, lying on his back, fights to clear his mind, to try to sleep. It has been a long time, years, in fact, since the red-eyed, blue monsters came to destroy his sleep and dreams. He has not been visited by them once since Taliesin began sleeping at his side. Sighing heavily, he sits up, looking at his bedmates. 

Thor is on the far edge of the bed, as usual, mumbling war cries. He has grown. His hair is midway down his back and his body bulges with muscles. He is sixteen years old. 

Between Thor and Loki Taliesin sleeps on her side. Her left arm, leg, and wing are thrown over Loki, her face pressed to his ribs. She is on the border between child and young woman. She no longer sucks her thumb; instead, she often grips a fistful of Loki’s hair in her sleep. She is about twelve years old. 

Loki is growing, too. At fifteen, he is nearly as tall as Thor, muscular, yet leaner. His long, black hair falls well below his shoulders. He flinches when, as she stirs in her sleep, Taliesin’s hand falls onto his stomach before she settles again. 

Something has changed, but only Loki seems to recognize it, even if he doesn’t understand it. Lying next to Taliesin at night has become a challenge. The scent of her skin, the smell of her hair, her overall aura have changed. His sleep is not peaceful. He is angry with himself, and ashamed. He cannot control his feelings, the dryness of his throat, the stiffness between his legs. Taliesin is still young and he hates himself for how he feels. He flops back down and turns his back to her, futilely seeking sleep. When the girl reaches around his chest, he takes her hand in his and presses it to his mouth. 

In the morning, Thor is the first fully awake. He swings his feet to the floor and unwittingly kicks Taliesin, who is curled there, in a ball, moaning. 

“Tali!” He leans over, surprised to see her there. “Taliesin! What - “ 

“My tummy hurts,” she whimpers. 

“Loki. Loki!” Thor turns and punches his brother, who has been asleep for all of thirty minutes. “Wake up!” 

Despite his fatigue, Loki is awake at once, aware of the empty space between himself and Thor. “What?” He balls his fist, gauging the distance to Thor’s face. 

“Tali’s sick. Get up.” 

Loki is instantly on his knees, peering over the side of the bed. “Tali! What – Thor, get Ama.” 

“No!” Taliesin wails, rolling to her side and sitting up. “She’ll give me that nasty fish stuff, no, please, Loki.” She groans, attempting to rise. 

Loki pulls her onto the bed, into his lap. Her arms go around his neck and he finds his face pressed distressingly close to her throat. He is shocked by his desperate desire to bite her, or lick, or suck, or kiss her there. He pushes her away to look into her face. “What is it, Princess?” 

She takes a shuddering breath. “I’m better now. Just let me go get dressed. I’m alright. Don’t tell Mumma, please?” She looks over her shoulder. “Thor?” 

“You sure?” Thor presses. Lately, he has begun to realize that he is expected to act like an adult. 

“No. Yes. I’m alright.” She pushes herself from Loki’s embrace and staggers from the room to find her Ama for morning toilette and dressing. 

Thor eyes Loki, who glares back. “What?” 

“You’re not looking so good, Brother.” 

Loki clenches his fists against the pain in his chest and groin. “She can’t sleep here anymore, Thor.” 

Thor opens his mouth, then seeing Loki’s expression, thinks better of it and wisely chooses to say nothing. 

At breakfast, it is only the four of them. Odin is about kingdom business. Thor and Loki eat, Taliesin pushes food around her plate, and Frigga watches her children. 

Thor is talking with his mouth full, telling Frigga about his extraordinarily smooth sword work in training yesterday. Neither of them notice Loki’s head go up, like a hunting dog scenting the air. After a moment, he glances sideways to be sure Frigga and Thor are not looking his way. He drops his face casually near Taliesin’s. “Tali,” he whispers. “Tell Mum your stomach hurts, and you want to go see your Ama.” He is pricked by the fear in her eyes, and smiles reassuringly at her. “Don’t be afraid, love. It’s your moon blood. Ama will help you.” 

He watches her leave the room, followed by Thor, who is anxious to get back out to the lists. When he turns around Frigga is staring at him. “Loki?” 

He looks down at his plate. “You always said I have a nose like a wolf.” 

“You should have told me. Not embarrassed her.” 

“Mother, did she look embarrassed?” He pushes his chair back. “May I go?” 

“Not yet.” Frigga leans back slowly. “Tell me.” 

The face he turns to her is so full of anguish she is taken aback. She wonders if things have gotten out of hand and whether she has waited too long. 

“I, you, she...she needs to start sleeping in her own room. I’ll tell her if you like.” 

“Loki, what happened?” 

The prince gathers control, masks his emotions as best he can. “Nothing has happened,” he replies coldly. “But she’s not a child any longer. Nor are we, Thor and I.” 

“No,” Frigga agrees carefully. “But why now? Because you have the nose of a wolf and can scent her moon blood?” 

“No, Mother.” Loki wants to feel offended, but this is his mother, and the conversation is already impossible. “It’s just getting too hard.” Loki hears himself and feels his face set aflame. Sighing, he lowers his head to his hands, peeks at his mother to see her trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile. “Mum.” 

“I understand, Loki, I truly do.” Frigga pushes her own chair back. “Does she still hold onto your hair at night? I love seeing that. It’s so dear.” 

“She does, Mum. And I like it.” He swallows hard. “Maybe too much.” 

“Oh, Loki.” Frigga feels her heart reach out to her poor, bewildered, smitten boy-becoming-man. Yes, she thinks, it is far past time to move Taliesin out of his room. 

“Mother,” Loki whispers, gazing at her, the pain evident in the green eyes peering through his long hair. “Mum, I love her.” 

A thousand thoughts career through Frigga’s head. She chooses to misunderstand him. “I know, son. We all do.”


	7. Loki's Secret

Taliesin is sad, and a little angry. So many things are different, and she is not happy about it. Frigga has been patient in explaining that this is what happens as one grows. Things change. People change. 

As soon as she received her first moon blood, she was no longer allowed to sleep in the same bed with her brothers. Because she loves Frigga, she tried to do as she asked, tried to sleep in her own room. But as soon as she heard her Ama snoring from the curtained alcove in her room, she slipped from her bed and headed down the hall. To her shock, when she’d crawled in between Thor and Loki, Loki sat up and whispered that she must return to her own room. After giving him a look of disbelief, she ignored him, and lay as close as she could to Thor without touching him. She enjoyed his bulk and warmth but had been too many times on the receiving end of his flailing fists or feet. Loki persisted, softly insisting that she go back to her room. She covered her head with the blanket, at which point Loki reached over to grasp her wing. “Taliesin,” he said firmly. “I am not playing.” 

He released his hold when she sat up, staring at him, shocked. His green eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Things have changed, my love,” he said quietly, in a voice not his own. “Now go. Please.” 

Taliesin fled to her own room, and did not sleep that night, sobbing into her pillow. At breakfast, she was unable to eat or make eye contact with anyone. Only Odin did not notice. 

Frigga kept her eyes on the girl, but wisely made no attempt to engage her. 

Loki did quite the opposite, trying awkwardly to jolly Taliesin from her gloom. She ignored him. 

Baffled, Thor did his best. “Tali!” His voice boomed. “Will you ride with us today?” He went on, blithely describing the ride he’d planned that day, down to the frozen lake, to hunt, maybe to fish in the ice, or to ski. 

“My lady,” Taliesin said quietly. “May I be excused?” 

Frigga nodded, and the girl wasted no time in leaving the table to rush to her room. Confused, Thor watched her go, while Loki turned miserable, red-rimmed eyes toward his mother. “She’ll be fine,” Frigga said softly, pretending to attend to her own uneaten meal. 

“Mum,” Loki whispered. 

“Ah,” Thor laughed. “Girls. They are different than you and I, Brother.” He reached across Loki to pick up Taliesin’s full plate. “No reason to waste this.” 

“Loki.” Frigga’s heart hurt for the two of them. She wished she could assure them, share her visions with them. “This is a difficult time for her.” 

Loki dropped his knife in his plate. “Must it be?” 

Frigga knew what he was asking. She leaned back and folded her arms. “Loki, how old are you?” 

“Fifteen, Mother.” 

“And she?” 

Loki swallowed. “We know not, for certain.” 

“Loki.” 

“Thirteen.” He spoke around the physical pain in his chest. “Maybe, maybe twelve.” 

“So, what do you think?” 

“Mum.” Loki looked at Thor. He did not want to have this conversation in front of his brother. 

“Loki.” Frigga stood from the table. “You and I will have a lesson after lunch. We’ll talk then.” She tried not to see the grief in her son’s green eyes as she left the room. 

“More magic?” Thor mumbled as he cleaned the rest of Taliesin’s plate. “I will be in the lists. Master Tonrir is teaching me the broadsword today!” 

“Good. Good for you.” 

Thor noticed. “Brother, are you ill?” 

“I am a god,” Loki replied haughtily, standing from the table. “Gods don’t get ill.”


	8. Loki’s Story

Frigga has breakfast alone with her daughter this morning. Thor and Loki have been commanded to the king’s presence, and though Taliesin tries to linger at the table, Frigga insists she go find something to do elsewhere. 

“Go find Sif, darling. Play, or braid each other’s hair. The boys are about kingdom business now. You know, the older they get, the less interested they will be in playing with you.” 

But as Taliesin slips from her seat at the table, she hears raised voices from the throne room. Odin is shouting, and she hears something like a desperate scream from Loki. Eyes wide, she turns to Frigga, who shakes her head. “Taliesin,” the queen says. “Do you trust me?” 

Taliesin nods silently. 

“Then trust that all your questions about this will be answered. But now is not the time. When they come out of that room, they will not wish to speak to you. Trust me. Now please go, my love.” 

Taliesin obeys, to a degree. She goes out of the palace, but does not go to find Sif, instead stopping near the stables, next to the armory, certain her brothers will come in this direction. She waits, blowing on her fingers to keep them warm. She is on the verge of asking to have her pony saddled, so she can have something to do, when she hears raised voices from the palace echoing in the keep. She draws back, hiding behind a partial wall. 

Loki stalks toward the stables, several paces ahead of Thor, who stumbles after. “Brother. Brother!” 

“Leave me!” Loki cries. 

Neither of their voices sounds like them and Taliesin is frightened. She does not attempt to follow Loki or Thor. Thor stands in the keep, fists clenched at his sides, watching as Loki whips his horse into a frantic gallop, out of the keep into the snowy landscape. When Thor turns, shoulders drooping, back into the palace, Taliesin is stricken to see that he is, or has been, crying. 

She is torn, for a moment. Riding after Loki seems too much like pursuit, she thinks, and if he saw her she would never catch up. She thinks she knows where he’s going, anyway, and it’s not far. She chooses to run, instead, following his horse’s footprints. 

Now, as she stumbles breathlessly through the snow, she sees the tree line ahead, and can tell that the horse slowed here. It has stopped snowing, so she sees the trail clearly. After only a moment of coming into the forest proper, she can hear the sound of the horse chuffing and stamping its feet. She changes course so that she might come upon Loki from a different direction. She feels certain he would not be happy that she followed him. She sings a little, under her breath, hoping to make him think her coming upon him is an accident. 

Loki is sitting under a tree on a frozen riverbank, in a spot cleared of snow. His head rests on his drawn knees, his face turned away. 

She stops a few meters away. “Bravo!” She calls to the horse, who lifts his head and whinnies in greeting. “Bravo, what are you – oh, Loki!” 

Loki does not move and Taliesin feels her heart pounding. “Loki! I didn’t know - “ 

“Go home, Tali.” His voice is tired and thick. 

“Loki?” 

“I said, go home.” 

She moves closer, almost close enough to touch him, then drops to her knees in the snow. She remains silent. Loki finally turns his head. “Did you hear me?” 

She presses a hand to the spot in her chest, maybe her heart, that hurts. “I heard.” Seeing his reddened, swollen eyes, she feels her own fill with tears. She shuffles, on her knees, through the snow to him. 

He does not shake off the hand she puts on his arm, but turns his face away again. “I’m not good company right now.” 

She places her hands gently on his head and turns his face toward her. “Tell me,” she whispers. 

His eyes, green and round, fill with tears and rage. “I am not safe for you to be near! I am not who you think I am! Now, go!” He gives her a shove, which sets her on her backside in the snow. She gapes at him, stunned. He has never raised a hand to her before. 

“No,” she says clearly. “I am going nowhere, Brother. You may talk to me or you may stay silent. But here I sit, either way.” 

After a moment he looks at her from the corner of an eye. “You’re going to get wet, and cold,” he states gruffly. She remains silent, and when he moves it is so sudden she draws in a breath to scream. But he only pulls her roughly into his lap, so she is sitting on his thighs. He puts his arms around her and his head drops to her chest. Loki begins to cry, deep, wracking sobs that shake them both. Taliesin wraps her arms around his head, winding her fingers in his hair, rocking him. Nothing has ever hurt her as much as seeing Loki in pain. When his storm finally subsides, he inhales deeply and sits back against the tree. He wipes his face and sighs shudderingly. 

“What’s happened?” Taliesin whispers. “Who hurt you? Loki? Brother?” 

“I’m not your brother,” he says wearily. 

She does not remember much, but she does remember being found by Loki and Thor, and she knows she was not born in their house, and as she begins to tell him so he speaks.

“I’m not Thor’s brother,” he goes on, brokenly. “I don’t know who I am, Tali.” 

“Loki, please tell me what you mean.” She strokes his face gently, and he takes her hand into his. 

“I’m not Odin’s son, nor Frigga’s,” he says, voice catching. “Odin took me from Jotunheim, when I was a baby, after a battle. I’m a Jotnar.” 

A long silence, broken only by the horse’s chuffing and shuffling fills the wood. Taliesin leans her head on Loki’s shoulder. He squeezes her tightly. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” she offers. 

He laughs. “You should be.” 

“Why?” She lifts her head to look into his eyes. “I am not Odin’s blood either. You’re not any different from who you were before.” 

“But I am. This morning, I was Loki Odinson. Now I’m Laufeyson – he's the Jotnar Odin took me from. 

“Jotunn, Tali. You never heard the stories Mumma used to tell about them. Frost giants. They’re monsters, Tali. I’m a monster.” 

She strokes his cheek, his lips. “Of course you’re not.” 

“Mum stopped telling the stories when I stopped being able to sleep at night. They would come for me. Every night. Tall people, all blue, with red eyes.” He shivers, then chuckles. “They went away when you came.” 

“What?” 

“I slept through, every night, after you came. They left me. I slept. And now,” his voice breaks. “I find out I am the monster.” 

“Oh, Loki. Why did he tell you? Why now?” 

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.” 

“Loki, tell me.” 

He cannot meet her eyes as his own fill with tears again. “It’s politics,” he whispers. “I’m a hostage. The seal on a treaty. There are important things, he said, at stake. War, treaties, marriages...” 

Taliesin feels that pain in her chest again. “What do you mean?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Loki wipes his face again. “You know, Laufey, my real father, was a king. I should be - “ He stops abruptly. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Ah, Loki.” Taliesin’s voice trembles. “I’m so sorry you’re sad. You’re still - “ 

Loki cuts her off with a sudden, fierce kiss that takes the breath from both of them. His lips leave hers as he moves to kiss her throat. Her long, slender neck has tantalized him since the day she became a woman. He fears, in his hunger, marking her, and with great effort of will he pulls away. Breathing heavily, he leans his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

Taliesin’s heart is beating so hard she can’t respond. All she can think is that she wants him to kiss her again. Placing her hands on his face she lifts his chin, and presses her lips gently to his. He kisses her, more softly this time, using his tongue to part her lips. After a few blissful minutes, Taliesin realizes Loki is trembling. She pulls away, even as he moves to kiss her face, and her throat. She leans her head back as his kisses drop lower. “You’re cold,” she whispers. 

“No.” 

“You’re shaking, Loki. You’re cold and wet.” 

“No. I’m a frost giant, love. I’m not cold.” He pulls away. “We have to go. C’mon.” He moves swiftly to stand, drawing her to her feet. “We’ve missed lunch. Let’s go.” 

She makes a small sound of surprise, and Loki takes her by the shoulders. “Taliesin, please understand. Allfather will have me hanged if he knows I touched you.” 

“What? Why?” Taliesin is astounded. 

“Come here. Let me boost you.” Loki lifts her into his horse’s saddle, pressing a kiss to her leg. He gracefully climbs behind her, wraps her tightly in his arms, and guides the horse out of the wood. “This must stay between us.” 

“I don’t - “ 

“Mumma thinks you’re too young.” 

Taliesin is indignant. “But, I’ve had my moon blood for a year now, almost! And why would she tell you such a thing?” 

“Because you are too young. You’re thirteen, Tali. You’re a princess, my love, not the baker’s daughter.” 

“What. Does. That. Mean.” She is starting to feel angry. 

Loki reins the horse up sharply, and turns Taliesin in the saddle so she is halfway facing him. “He told me you’ll marry a king, Tali. They’ll make that happen. You’ll be someone else’s queen.” His voice breaks. “He told me I could not have you, that you’re meant for someone else.” He struggles to hold back tears and maintain his composure. “They have plans for you too. You’re part of some treaty.” 

Neither of them speaks as they ride back to the palace. Dismounting at the stables, Loki helps Taliesin down, whispering to her, “trust me, love. What happened between us must stay there, for now. Please.” Seeing her stricken eyes, he leans close to her ear. “Not forever. Give me time, my little love. I will make you my queen, Tali.” His lips touch her neck just before he straightens to hand the horse off to a stable boy. He strides into the palace without looking back. 

Taliesin’s fingers rise to touch the place Loki kissed her. She tries, and fails, to tame the smile on her lips before going to her rooms, to get her Ama’s help in pulling off her snow-sodden layers and freeing her wings.


	9. Thor Makes Thunder

Summer has passed, winter not yet begun. In the nursery, which has been converted to an all-purpose playroom, the four friends sit on the floor sharing ghost stories, telling tales of the Old Ones, enjoying each other’s company, and doing what they can to make each other laugh. 

At fifteen, Taliesin has little to offer in the way of stories. She is happy to be here, with three of the four people she loves most in the world. Loki seems to have come to terms with the revelation sprung on him by Odin, and while he has moments of anger and arrogance, he is the sweet-natured, affectionate boy she has clung to since her first memories. Only now, Loki is a young man, at eighteen. 

As young adults, their lessons and court duties take them in different directions during the day, and Taliesin is unable to spend as much time with Loki and Thor as she is wont to do. Every night, however, after the Amas have fallen asleep and Frigga has visited her room, and then the boys’, to kiss them goodnight, Loki slips from his snoring brother’s side to go to Taliesin’s. There, he climbs into the bed with her to hold her close, where they kiss until their lips are numb. 

They both live for these nightly interludes, not dreaming that Frigga is fully aware of them. She had returned to Taliesin’s room late one night to put a new dress in her wardrobe, long after her goodnight kisses. She stopped abruptly at the doorway, hearing Loki’s voice from Taliesin’s bed. Heart pounding, she peeked fearfully in, noting with relief that both seem fully clothed. She notes, too, from the length of their hair, that she is not witnessing the coming-to-life of one of her visions. She resolves not to intervene, praying for Loki’s continued self control. 

While Taliesin’s closeness and the clothing between them are torturous to Loki, he is painfully aware of the line he must not cross. When the ache in his groin becomes unbearable, he tells her to sleep well and leaves her before she can tempt him to stay. 

It is early evening in the playroom. The Lady Sif, at sixteen, is Taliesin’s closest girl friend. Sif has always been kind to and protective of Taliesin. She is strong, feisty, and fearless. She’s skilled with a sword, and Taliesin admires her. Only Taliesin is aware that Sif has set her sights on becoming Thor’s wife. 

Sif makes a fist with the middle finger knuckle protruding, making a formidable “cold weapon,” as she puzzlingly calls it. She uses this weapon to punch Thor’s upper arm with such force as is guaranteed to command his attention. “You’re the Thunder God, aren’t you?” Sif cries. “Make thunder for us!” 

“Oh yes!” Taliesin adds. “And lightning.” 

Loki is stretched on his side. “Do, Brother. Nothing like a storm to add to a ghost story.” 

Grinning, Thor raises his arms. He is thrilled by this opportunity to show off in front of his “little” brother and sister, and the very pretty and attentive golden-haired Sif. Lightning shoots from his fingers and the room rocks with the concussion. 

“Thor,” Loki begins, sitting up straight. “Thor - “ 

Within a moment the room is lit by bouncing lightning bolts and shaking from thunder. With a shriek Taliesin flies to Loki. As he jumps to his feet he shelters her with one arm and his eyes with the other. He shouts, “Thor! Put it outside!” 

No sooner do the words leave his lips than the ceiling of the room opens and rain pours upon them. Soaked by the deluge, Sif and Taliesin clutch one another and laugh so hard they risk drowning. Thor frantically throws his lightning – laden fingers in the air, while Loki stands, arms crossed, his dark hair dripping rain water, streaking his face. “Thor?” 

“In...a...moment, Brother!” Thor manages from between clenched teeth. 

Loki’s hands move in a complex pattern before him, and a green light grows from a small orb to a protective arc that hold the rain off them. 

“Thor?” 

“I have it!” Thor shouts. 

“Put it outside!” Loki moves his hands again and the rain stops. 

Panting, the four listen. They hear dripping within the room, but now, it is clearly storming outside the palace. 

“There!” Thor says triumphantly, grinning broadly. 

Sif begins a low giggle, and in a moment is lying on the floor, covering her face with her hands and laughing hysterically. 

Loki calls more magic which leaves the room dry, and him and his friends dry and giddy. “Well done, Brother.” 

Thor is grinning, oblivious to the irony. “Thank you!” 

Loki sits down, winks at Sif who is still weak with laughter, and holds his arms open. Taliesin, still giggling, crawls over to him and falls into his lap. Loki pulls her close in a manner that cannot be confused for a brotherly hug. Thor and Sif exchange a knowing glance but say nothing. 

Hearing the hysteria and shouts of laughter from her chamber, Frigga peeks, curiously, clandestinely, into the playroom. There, she sees Sif leaning against Thor, as her elder son tells some horror story involving elves. His arm is around her. 

Her eyes stop on her other son, and the young woman she thinks of as a daughter. Loki sits cross legged, with Taliesin in his lap. Her arms are around his neck, and as Frigga watches, they kiss.


	10. Yule Preparation

It is the first night of the holiday of Yule, and the young gods and goddesses are frenetic in the festive atmosphere. Thor, Sif, Loki, and Taliesin range like wildlings in the freezing air, shrieking at each other as they play in the deep snow just outside the palace. It’s gods versus goddesses, with snow forts and snowball weapons. 

Taliesin is thrilled to be paired with Sif, who, though only sixteen, has made a reputation for herself as a shield maiden. In weapons training, she is equal to any of the boys her age, and can hold her own in contests even with Thor. 

A year younger, Taliesin has also been trained in weapons use, but does not embrace it with the same ferocity as Sif. She is skilled with swords, spears, and the bow, and quite handy with a dagger, but she does not love them as Sif does. Still, she looks up to the older girl and is pleased to have her as an ally. 

At eighteen and nineteen, Loki and Thor have matured, but are still young enough to be childishly excited by the holiday. They (and the young goddesses) will leave their boots on the hearth tonight, filled with treats for Sleipnir, whom the Allfather will ride in the Wild Hunt. They know that, in the morning, the hay and sugar will be gone, and there will be presents for them. 

They are experiencing the season’s one hour of faint sunlight, and the temperatures are dropping. Soon it will be time to go inside and dry off, warm up and change into their holiday finery for the feast and ball. 

While Thor and Loki crouch in their fort, feverishly arming themselves, Sif grasps Taliesin’s elbow. “Ready?” She whispers. She does not give her a chance to respond, as she jumps from behind their fort with a shrieking battle cry, her arms loaded with snowballs. She runs, screaming, toward the boys. Taliesin follows blindly and the two begin pelting Loki and Thor mercilessly. 

Thor roars to his feet and tackles Sif, dropping her and virtually burying her in the snow. 

Taliesin turns to run but Loki charges and brings her down in the snow. Breathless with laughter, she wraps her legs around him in an unexpected move and flips him onto his back where he dissolves into giggles. She falls next to him, on her back, panting. 

Taliesin is bundled so tightly she feels stifled, not cold. She feels like she did the time Thor and Loki rolled her up in the library rug and carried her around the palace until she’d finally had enough, and demanded to be freed. She chafes at having her wings covered by her under blouse, tunic, scarf, sweater and coat, but her mother refuses to let her go out in this weather with her back exposed. It does no good to protest, as Loki will chime in to remind her that frozen wings are not good wings. She huffs. 

“Tali,” Loki gasps. 

“What.” 

“Tali, help me.” 

Taliesin sits up and gazes down at Loki. “What’s wrong?” 

“Taliesin. Help me,” he says again. His long, dark hair spills into the snow around him, and there are snowflakes in his long eyelashes. 

She leans over him. “Loki?” 

He grabs her and tosses her onto her back, and holds her down with his body, effortlessly resisting her struggles. 

“Oh!” She cries indignantly. “So unchivalrous!” 

He chuckles and grins at her, fondly, until she relaxes and stops fighting him. “Let me go.” 

“Never.” 

“Loki.” She tries for a threatening tone as she squirms beneath him. 

“Wait, sssh,” he cautions, pressing her down. “Look!” 

She follows his gaze, to see Thor kissing Sif as he holds her in the snow. She can barely contain her astonishment as she looks back at Loki. She is speechless. 

He laughs at her expression. “He likes her!” Loki states the obvious. 

“What - “ The word is whisked from her lips by Loki’s mouth pressed firmly to her own. She feels as if the world has dropped from beneath her. 

Before she can speak, Loki jumps up and pulls her up after him. “Here, quick, get on my back!” 

As a very little girl, Taliesin had ridden on Loki’s and Thor’s back many times. Now, she climbs on, and he plunges through the snow toward Thor and Sif. 

In her usual manner, Sif pushes Thor roughly into position as she pulls herself onto his back, and they meet Loki’s charge. The four of them end up sunk in the deep snow. The girls are hiccupping with laughter, and Loki and Thor are screaming mock threats at one another. 

“Princess? My Lady Sif? My Lord Princes?” A festively dressed page stands, shivering, in the courtyard. “Your Lady Mother requires your presence, at once, my lords, ladies.” 

“We’re there,” Thor pants, climbing to his feet. “We’re coming.” 

The four climb to their feet and brush snow off themselves. Thor leads them inside, not glancing at Sif, who cannot take her eyes off him. Loki and Taliesin exchange a look. As they trudge toward the palace, Thor strides ahead and Sif falls farther back. Taliesin hears her muttering, and in a moment she and Loki have caught up to her. “Mule’s ass,” Sif hisses. 

Taliesin shoots a glance at Loki, who frowns and shrugs. “Sif?” 

The girl does not turn around, throwing a hand up to her eyes. “Pig.” 

“Sif?” Taliesin is alarmed. 

Sif stops so suddenly that Taliesin ploughs into her and falls on her back in the snow. As Loki bends to help her up, Sif grabs him by the shoulders, forcing him to face her, leaving Taliesin to pull herself up. “Loki!” 

“Sif?” Loki maintains eye contact with her, while bending his knees and offering his hand to help Taliesin stand. 

“Loki, will you dance with me tonight?” 

As Loki and Taliesin stare, speechless, she shakes her head and turns away. 

“Come, children!” Thor’s voice booms from ahead. “Our queen has called.” 

“Brute!” Sif fairly spits, her eyes shining with tears. 

“I’ll dance with you Sif,” Loki offers, glancing at Taliesin, who nods vigorously. Sif stalks into the courtyard where they all shake the snow off. 

The mead hall is decorated for the holiday festivities; ivy, glowing garlands, sparking tinsel, fir trees decked in candles, and glittering jewels (but never mistletoe – Frigga has an aversion to the plant and forbids it), and the kitchens are frantic with feast preparations. 

Frigga is enjoying the commotion of holiday preparation, and excited for her children. Taliesin, Sif, and Loki will be attending the First Night Yule Ball and Dinner for the first time. While they will be expected to mingle and dance with guests, she has seated them in pairs so that they will be comfortable and, she hopes, happy. 

Seating Loki and Taliesin together takes little to no thought. The two are clearly as attached to one another as they were the day the boys brought Taliesin home. She knows she may face some resistance from Odin, but is confident she can manage him. 

Pairing Thor and Sif is a little more difficult, as Thor is, technically, a highly desirable heir to the throne. But, as queen, Frigga has no problem asserting her own hopes. She knows that Sif is in love with Thor, and she thinks highly of, even loves, the young goddess. Thor, on the other hand, is young, lusty, and fickle. 

When the four come in, breathless and pink cheeked, Frigga stands. “Come, my loves,” she calls. “Time to change, and get ready!” She pretends not to notice that Loki and Taliesin were holding hands until they came in. She also pretends not to see the hurt on Sif’s face, the tears in her eyes. She can guess why they’re there. 

“Sif, darling, I’ve had your gown moved to Tali’s room so you can get ready together. Ama Thyra will help you with your hair and headdresses. 

“Thor, Loki, after your baths, when you’ve dressed, please see to each other’s braids. Thor, Loki’s braids are getting a little ragged. Please take better care of them, son.” 

She stands amongst them for a moment, smiling, touching, arranging hair and clothing lovingly. Everyone has grown so much, she thinks. Her boys are both so tall, taller than she by a full head – in Thor’s case, more. She strokes Thor’s arm and pushes long strands of hair out of Loki’s face. She cups Sif’s face, and surreptitiously wipes a tear off her cheek, and presses a kiss to Taliesin’s forehead. “Go now!” She says brightly, clapping her hands together. “This will be a good night!” 

As the four part in the hallway to head to their separate rooms, Loki says, ”We’ll wait here, my ladies, to escort you to dinner.” 

“Ah,” Thor grumbles. “We won’t! They take forever, Loki! Baths, and hair, and shoes, and perfume, and yuck. We can meet them there.” 

All are startled by the flash of anger on Loki’s face. He grabs Thor’s upper arm. Though his face is calm again, his voice is low and dark. “Now would be a good time to practice being king, Brother. We will wait on our ladies.” 

Thor makes a rude sound, pulls his arm from Loki’s grip, and turns into his doorway. “As you say, Brother.” 

Rolling his eyes, Loki takes Sif’s hand and kisses it, making her giggle. “My Lady Sif.” 

He turns to Taliesin, takes her proffered hand and instead of kissing it, pulls her close to kiss her lingeringly on the mouth. “My Lady Taliesin.” He grins at them both before following Thor into their room. 

Taliesin is smiling, and touching her lips as they move down the hall toward her room. She catches Sif’s look from the corner of her eye. “What?” 

“You’re lucky, do you know it?” Sif stalks into Taliesin’s room, pulling off layers of clothing and her boots. 

“Ama?” Taliesin calls. “Ama, we’re here for a bath!” She joins Sif in peeling off clothing as the Ama gestures them into the tub large enough for them both, filled with hot water and fragrances. 

Taliesin leans back in the water, reveling in the Ama’s tender touch as she washes her long, silver hair. “Why, Sif?” 

Sif slams her hand down, perhaps forgetting that she is in a bath, startling Taliesin and the Amas as water splashes everywhere. “Loki is so good to you. He doesn’t care if anyone sees him kiss you.” 

Taliesin blushes, and sinks lower in the tub, eyeing the Amas nervously. The two elderly nursemaids pretend to be deaf. “We saw Thor kiss you,” Taliesin offers softly. 

“I know!” Sif makes as if to hit the water again, but regains control. “And then he ignores me. It’s like it never happened.” She puts her hands to her face and begins to cry. 

“Oh, Sif.” Taliesin leans forward in the water and puts her hand on her friend’s arm. 

Sif slides forward abruptly to dunk her face. She comes up out of the water, gasping, rubbing her face vigorously. “That’s why I asked Loki if he’d dance with me. I didn’t think you’d mind.” 

“I don’t. But you think Thor will?” 

Neither notice that the women gently washing their hair and scrubbing their backs are biting their lips and cheeks to keep from smiling. They have not had the joy of overhearing young women’s lovelorn gossip since their Lady Frigga was a maiden. 

“I don’t care.” Sif climbs out of the tub. 

Taliesin follows, standing with arms outstretched as she and Sif are toweled off. “Loki told me Thor likes you.” 

Sif looks up. “He did?” 

“Yes. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to act.” 

“Well,” Sif grumbles. “Loki certainly knows how to act! He treats you like his queen!” 

Taliesin tries not to smile, but she cannot keep her fingers from outlining her lips, feeling Loki’s mouth against her own, and the briefest taste of his tongue. A thought comes to her suddenly. “Maybe you should ignore him.” 

Sif snorts and makes no reply. 

“Really!” Taliesin insists. “There will be many guests tonight. Loki and Thor aren’t the only boys to dance with.” 

Sif looks up with a glint in her eye.


	11. Yule Feast

An hour later the young goddesses are dressed, wearing gowns and headdresses Frigga had made especially for each. Taliesin’s gown is deep green with gold trim, open at the back to free her wings. Her gold headdress is a smaller version of Loki’s ceremonial helmet – golden horns curving up and over her head. 

Sif’s dress is red, and her headdress has gold wings like Thor’s helmet. Upon first seeing her ensemble, Sif had clutched the dress to her. “I love your mum,” she told Taliesin tearily. 

Fully dressed, hair brushed and styled, perfumed, with shoes, jewels, and headdresses in place, Sif and Taliesin admire themselves before a large wall mirror. 

“Princess?” Ama Thyra speaks, after watching the young women twirl before the mirror for a moment. “The princes are here to escort you and Lady Sif to the hall.” 

“Thank you, Ama. We’re coming.” Taliesin takes Sif’s arm and whispers to her. Sif nods. They move from Taliesin’s bath and bedroom to the front room, where Thor and Loki are waiting. 

Thor slouches in the doorway, fidgeting with the hem of his cloak and mumbling, to himself, or Loki. 

Loki is standing straight with his back to the room. His long black hair falls midway down his back. He is wearing a cloak the same color as Taliesin’s dress, holding his helmet in one hand. As he turns, his face lights up, and Taliesin can hardly stop from running to him as she did as a child. He is holding two roses, one red, one green. 

Thor has straightened his posture and gazes admiringly at the young women. Sif does not meet his eye, smiling instead at Loki. 

“You, you ladies, you’re beautiful,” Loki stammers, though he can truly only see Taliesin. He manages to pull his gaze away from her as he extends the red rose to Sif. “Happy Yule, my Lady Sif.” As if he knows what she and Taliesin have discussed, he adds, “you will have all the gods fighting tonight, to dance with you.” 

Sif blushes prettily and curtseys. “Thank you, my Lord Prince. Happy Yule.” 

Loki puts his helmet down carefully, and turns to Taliesin, one hand over his heart as he offers her the green rose. When she takes it, he takes her free hand and drops to one knee. “My Lady Taliesin, I would be honored if you would allow me to escort you to the Yule Ball.” He looks up at her through his hair, and winks. 

Her wings beat once, forcefully, then settle at her back, trembling slightly. “Rise, my Prince,” she says softly. “You may escort me to the ball.” 

Loki rises, still holding her hand, and glances expectantly at Thor. Thor’s face grows red. “I’ll take Sif,” he says gruffly. 

“Perhaps,” Loki suggests, “you might ask for the lady’s consent?” 

Feeling put upon, Thor growls. “My lady,” he says. “May I escort you to the Yule Ball?” He holds a hand out to her. 

They wait. Taliesin presses herself to Loki’s side. They share a glance, looking away quickly lest they burst into laughter. 

Sif ponders for another long moment, then, “you may,” she says, striding out the door past Thor’s outstretched hand. 

The feast is abundant and colorful. Loki and Taliesin sit to Frigga’s left, Thor and Sif at Odin’s right. Thor is striving to show Sif the proper attention and respect, and she is coolly accepting. Loki and Taliesin hold hands beneath the table and try to eat using only one hand each. 

Frigga is enjoying herself, though she is worried about Thor. She has raised her boys to be respectful of all women, and Thor’s cavalier attitude disturbs her. As gods, as young men, both he and Loki sometimes act out of arrogance, but Loki overall is more courteous, and conscious of court protocol. 

Her husband is not happy that she is openly encouraging “alliances,” as he calls them, in dressing Taliesin in Loki’s colors. He has reminded her that, due to the treaty with the Vanir, and their attending prophecy, Taliesin is not theirs to betroth. With her visions of Loki and Taliesin in mind, she tells him that her children must fully enjoy themselves for this festival, and no one will think anything of it. 

Now, music is coming from the ballroom, and her children are staring at her, wide-eyed, expectant. Mead has been served with dinner and she has allowed them two cups each. She knows that Loki and Thor have managed to get more poured, but it is a holiday and she pretends not to see. She calls Thor and Sif to her side so she does not have to lean across Odin. 

She gathers the four close to her. “You must listen, my loves. Thor, Loki, you must dance with women other than Sif and Tali. And you too, Tali darling, with other men. For every dance you have with each other, you must entertain at least two or three guests.” 

Loki opens his mouth, presumably to argue. She speaks over him. “Listen to me. You are the hosts of this dance. Your guests’ enjoyment is your priority, do you understand?” 

Thor is the only one not downcast by this mandate. Seeing this, Sif’s chin goes up. “That is well, my queen,” she says to Frigga, before taking Taliesin’s hand in hers. “Tali, there are so many cute boys out there! Let’s go!” 

“Sif.” Taliesin pulls her back. “Loki has the first dance with me.” 

“Ah well, then I’ll see you out there.” She moves as if to leave. 

“Sif!” Thor calls, stunned by her attitude. “I thought...” 

“Yes?” Sif replies, edging away. 

“I thought, well, you’re wearing my colors, and...” 

“Yes?” 

“Shouldn’t you and I have the first dance together?” 

“Should we?” Sif answers innocently. 

Frigga, while trying not to laugh, almost feels sorry for her son. His three companions have been quite skilled in punishing Thor for his offhand treatment of Sif. “Yes, please. You four should dance first. Get things started. They’ll be waiting for you. And, my sons, you must dance with each other’s partners.” 

“We will, Mumma, can we please go now?” 

She nods at Taliesin and watches the four move off toward the ballroom. Thor and Sif walk stiffly at each other’s side, while Loki and Taliesin walk hand in hand. Smiling, she glances at Odin. 

“Frigga.” 

“My lord?” 

“We must talk.”


	12. Yule Ball

Thor and Sif step onto the ballroom floor, all appearance of disagreement gone. The music is a “valse," it and the dance stolen from Midgard. Smiling widely, the tall, golden-haired Prince of Asgard sweeps his golden-haired goddess through the steps of the dance. 

After making sure they have received an appropriate amount of attention, Loki guides Taliesin to the floor. He realizes after their first turn, that no one is looking at Thor any longer. All eyes are on them. Or, actually, all eyes are on Taliesin. Most of the guests, Aesir from far and wide in Asgard, have never laid eyes on the little princess. It has been long known that Odin and Frigga adopted a child, an unusual child, with wings. Very few have actually seen her before. Murmurs from the watching guests follow their progression. 

Many of the young gods in attendance are suddenly pleased to be expected to dance. As far as they know, Taliesin is a marriageable young goddess who is not spoken for. She is a vision – long, silver hair and gossamer wings floating behind her, the green gown she wears accenting the startling emerald of her eyes. At one point she throws her head back and laughs at something Loki whispered, and the guests are riveted. 

The sight of the beautiful dancer in Loki’s arms has galvanized the goddesses in attendance as well. They are struck by the beauty of the tall, dark-haired young prince with the round green eyes and wide smile. Loki, like Thor and Taliesin, is on display as an available match. Mothers of young gods and goddesses are plotting. The princes and princess of Asgard will be hard pressed to accommodate all their admirers in this one night. 

After the first dance, Thor and Loki meet in the middle of the floor to exchange partners. Thor heartily invites the guests to join them as he takes Taliesin in his arms. “Are you having a good time, little one?” He asks. “Wait, wait.” He discreetly lifts her completely off the floor. “Put your feet - “ 

“ - on yours,” she finishes, and Thor laughs happily. “You were always my favorite partner,” he tells her. “We are perfect together.” 

“That is because you don’t have to worry about dancing! You’re dancing with yourself!” She gasps, then laughs as he unexpectedly dips her. She is at his mercy since her feet are not touching the ground, and he is taking advantage of the freedom this gives him. He spins with her, and invents dance moves as he goes. Thor is having a wonderful time and Taliesin cannot stop giggling. 

“Thor!” She cries breathlessly. “Stop. Mumma will be so upset!” 

He dips her once more. He loves to make her laugh. “You didn’t answer me. Are you having fun?” 

“Yes, I suppose.” She is looking into the crowd of dancers, trying unsuccessfully to find Loki. “Thor?” 

“Yes, my love.” 

“Why are you so mean to Sif?” 

Thor’s jaw drops, but to his credit, he does not miss a step. “I? Mean? What - “ 

“Oh Thor! You’re unkind to her. You kiss her, then - “ 

“You saw that?” 

“Thor! She is a goddess. And she cares for you. You must show her more respect. If you are to be king - “ 

“We don’t know that.” 

Taliesin makes a sound that chokes Thor with laughter. “Thor, my brother, I am serious.” 

“I know.” Thor sobers. “Must I choose already?” 

Taliesin stares at him. “You have another?” 

“Well, no, but.” 

“Thor, please.” The dance is ending, and Taliesin steps down from Thor’s feet. “Don’t toy with her! If you kiss her, you should keep her at your side.” 

Thor has the grace to look chastened. “You’re right, Tali.” He leans down to kiss her. “I will.” 

Before either can say another word a young man comes between them. “My lord?” He smiles brightly at Thor. “May I?” 

Thor puts a finger on his chin. “Well, Harald, if you must, but I would really prefer to dance with the ladies.” 

The young god’s mouth falls open as Taliesin stifles a laugh. “Harald?” She smiles sweetly at him. Harald gratefully takes her arm and they leave Thor, laughing, behind them. 

Loki and Sif dance well together - Frigga has made sure her children are well schooled in all the niceties of court life, including ballroom dancing – but each is covertly looking into the crowd of dancers for someone else. 

Sif breaks the silence between them. “Thank you, Loki.” 

He looks down at her. “Why are you thanking me?” 

“It was so kind of you, to bring me the rose, and to say what you said, about the others wanting to dance with me.” 

“Oh.” Loki is uncomfortable, but he wants to be kind to his friend. “Sif, sometimes Thor just acts like a wildling. I’m sorry he hurt you.” 

She nods, looking down, not noticing that she, too, with her flowing golden hair and lovely figure is the subject of admiring whispers. “Tali is so lucky.” She sees the confusion on his face. “She never has to doubt, ever, that you are in love with her.” 

Loki nods. “I am,” he says simply, disengaging from Sif’s arms and bowing to her as the dance ends. “I love her more than life. 

“Sif.” He pulls her back before she can be lost amongst the dancers. “Don’t give up on him. He needs a strong woman like you. He’ll realize it. You’re perfect for him.” 

Sif smiles. “Tali is so lucky to have you, Loki.” She is drawn away to dance by a young god who admires her gold hair and sparkling eyes. And before Loki can take a breath a lovely young woman with hair as dark as his own is in his arms. 

“My Lord Prince,” she says as the next dance begins. “I am Astrid.” She smiles radiantly at him. 

“A pleasure, Lady Astrid. I am Loki.” Loki notices that she is very pretty. 

“Oh, I know who you are. Everybody knows you,” she giggles. 

Loki’s attention has been on the mob of guests, looking for Taliesin. Now he looks down at the girl. “Oh?” He says curiously. 

“Well, of course,” she says. “Not only because you are Odin’s son, but because you may be king!” 

She dances a little awkwardly, and Loki finds it a bit of a struggle to keep the lead. He does not want to pull her through the steps, so attempts to follow when she leads, and to take the lead when she remember she is supposed to follow. 

“And,” the girl continues, scarcely taking a breath, “everyone knows you are a powerful sorcerer!” 

“I’m not,” Loki replies, looking over her head. “My mother has taught me much, but I still have much to learn.” 

“Oh, you are too modest, my prince!” Astrid giggles again. “There are stories you found a svartalf in the snow, and the king raised it - “ 

“What?” Loki interrupts. “No, No, she is not a dwarf. She is not any kind of elf.” 

“I heard she has horns, and a tail, and wings!” She giggles again, and Loki stifles an urge to pick her up by the throat. 

“No,” he says curtly. “She has wings, that’s all. And silver hair, and green eyes. She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” 

“Oh.” Astrid is a bit subdued. “With wings?” She says doubtfully. 

“My lady,” Loki says, guiding them away from the dance. “Would you care for some wine? I’ll get some.” He leaves the simpering girl with friends, and looks for a servant. He catches a passing waiter. “That woman?” He tells the water. “The one with the black hair? Please take a glass of wine to her and give her my regards. Tell her I’ve been called away.” The waiter bows and Loki turns away with relief, only to run headlong into Thor. 

“Brother!” Thor shouts. “We are drinking here, will you join us?” 

Loki glances over at the table Thor has commandeered, hoping to see Taliesin. Instead, he sees Sif, and several of Thor’s warrior friends. They are all, except perhaps Sif, well on the way to being drunk. “Thor!” Loki grabs his brother’s arm. “You’re supposed to be dancing, not getting drunk!” 

“I am dancing, little brother, see?” Thor shows Loki some clumsy footwork. “I dance better when I’m drunk.” 

Loki rolls his eyes. “Have any of you seen Taliesin?” 

Thor’s friend Fandral straightens. “Yes! Over there - “ He points, then puts his hand to his mouth. “Or, possibly, there?” 

“She’s fine, Brother, not to worry!” Thor pushes Loki into a seat on the bench. “Have some mead and we’ll form a search party.” 

Loki sighs heavily, takes the mug that is offered, and sips as he scans the crowd. 

Taliesin is conscious of Frigga’s wish, and strives to be a cordial hostess and desirable dance partner. As this is her first ball, she isn’t sure what to expect. She has no idea of how desirable she really is. She wants to make Frigga proud of her, and so has danced with so many smitten young gods that she’s lost count. She has fulfilled her promise and danced with more than three guests – many more – and now she just wants Loki. 

Trying to maintain her poise and remain cordial to her partner, Bjorn, who has muscled her into a second dance without break, she finds her goodwill flagging. He is a huge young god, nearly as big as Thor, and he has virtually claimed her for his own. He talks endlessly, about his feats of strength, his skill with the bow and sword, and how many young goddesses fall over themselves to be near him. He seems to be under the impression that she is swooning with gratitude to be his chosen dance partner. 

From the corner of her eye, she sees Sif at a table next to Loki. Weak with relief she ducks from under Bjorn’s heavy arm and says, “a rest, good sir, I beg you!” She smiles brightly at him, but her effort to escape is thwarted by his grip on her arm. 

Relieved, Loki spots her and stands. He scowls when he sees the look of desperation on her face, and that she is practically dragging a behemoth with her. Even as she comes upon her friends, Bjorn does not loose her arm. “Greetings!” He shouts happily. “Will you spare some mead for me, and the princess, my future bride?” 

Sif, seeing Loki’s face, leaps from the table to intervene. “Come, Tali,” she says. “Let us take a ladies’ rest.” 

“Not so fast!” Bjorn roars. He has been drinking mead for hours. “Give your husband a kiss before you go.” Before she can react, Bjorn has seized Taliesin by a wing to pull her toward him. 

Taliesin cries out as her back arches and she falls to her knees. Loki sways on his feet, suddenly pale and breathless, unable to move. 

Sif, Fandral, and one of the other warriors, Volstagg, move toward Bjorn, but Thor is there, red-faced and raging. “Take your hands off my sister!” He roars, silencing the entire room. “You forget yourself, sir, and if it takes steel to remind you of your place I shall meet you in the courtyard at dawn!” 

“Whoa! Easy, Thor!” Fandral places his hands on Thor’s chest while Volstagg shoves Bjorn back. 

The big man looks confused, seeing Taliesin down, and realizing Thor means to kill him. He is quite suddenly very sober. By now Sif has pulled Taliesin to her feet and holds her. 

Bjorn falls to one knee in front of them, his head lowered. “My lady, Princess, I beg forgiveness. I have drunk too much. I have acted badly, and I ask your grace.” 

Taliesin reaches a shaking hand out to gently touch his shoulder. Her teeth are chattering. “All is well,” she says, glancing at Thor. “Think no more of it.” 

“Just don’t do it again,” Sif snaps, sitting Taliesin on the bench and handing her a cup of wine. 

Bjorn is still shaken, and would say more, but Fandral waves him off and gives him a meaningful shove, away from them. He takes the hint and stumbles away, feeling fortunate to not have died this Yule night at Thor’s hands. 

Thor growls as he leans over Taliesin. “Are you well, little one?” 

“Yes, Thor, thank you.” She sips the mead. 

“Good thing you were here, Thor!” Fandral says. “I thought you would be rescuing your brother next.” He is joking, but the comment strikes Loki hard. His fists clench and he sits heavily on the bench next to Taliesin. His face is blank, but he is seething with rage at his inability to defend her. 

For once, Thor sensibly does not join in against his brother. “Enough, Fandral. This is not something you would understand. 

“And Loki would never need rescue by me.” 

“Thor.” Taliesin beckons him close. “Please, will you take your friends? Let Loki and me sit for awhile? Please take Sif and dance, keep our guests happy. I don’t want to upset Mumma.” 

Thor grins and kisses her cheek. “As you command, my lady.” He turns and bows to Sif, offering his hand. “I beg your indulgence, beautiful one. Dance with me?” Eyes shining, Sif takes his hand without a backward glance. 

Loki and Taliesin are alone in the crowd. “I’m so sorry,” Loki whispers, unable to meet her eyes. 

She takes his hand in her own. “But why?” 

“I couldn’t help you,” he says bitterly. “Thor had to do it.” 

She’s quiet for a moment. “But it happens to you, too. When someone touches my wings. I can’t stand, I can’t breathe. I don’t know why, but it happens to you, too.” 

He glances at her sideways. “I’m supposed to protect you.” 

“Don’t, Loki. Think of it – you’re the only one who can touch me there.” She smiles, her love for him plain on her face. 

He smiles back at her and squeezes her hand. Then, he takes her face in his hands and pulls her close to kiss her deeply, lingeringly. Neither of them gives a thought to the dozens of palace guests who see them. 

Guests who, between Thor’s angry outburst, and the sight of the younger prince and the princess kissing like lovers, have plenty to talk about this night.


	13. Odin Rules

Early the next morning (far too early for Thor, who is painfully recovering from excessive mead drinking), before breakfast, Odin has summoned his three children into the throne room. Frigga is there as well, sitting on her throne on a step below Odin’s. She smiles reassuringly at them, but cannot hide the misgiving she feels. 

“Well,” Odin begins. “I understand there was a bit of excitement at the ball last night.” 

Taliesin is the only one who looks at him, twisting her fingers. Thor and Loki look at their feet. 

“It seems excessive, does it not, when a Prince of Asgard threatens the life of a guest?” 

Thor looks up at the king. “He assaulted the princess.” 

Odin reflects. “He touched her. He shouldn’t have, but surely a touch, during a dance, does not warrant death?” 

“She is a princess, Allfather. A daughter of Asgard’s King,” Loki points out. “He took hold of her wing, and pulled her down, to her knees.” 

“I see,” says Odin, and he does. “And I have raised you right, that you step in when necessary to protect a woman. A royal, or otherwise. 

“But that is hardly the most urgent discussion amongst our subjects this morning, is it?” 

Now he has their full attention. 

“My children. As the royal family, we have obligations. I know you know this; you have spent several years in lessons to learn this very thing. I must remind you that we are not always able to have our heart’s desires.” 

He pauses, and focuses on Loki, who cannot meet his eye. “I will also remind you of the discussions we have had. The Lady Taliesin is a Vanir, a prophetess, or so they think, and by our long-lived treaty, she will go to them, to marry as best suits them.” 

He pauses, wondering which of them will speak first. He guesses it will be Loki, or possibly Frigga. He is surprised when Thor opens his mouth. “My lord, why would we let them have her when they abandoned her? As a helpless child?” His voice rises. “Naked, in the snow?” 

“That is not our concern,” Odin replies. “If she had died there none of this would be an issue.” Taliesin gasps and her hands go to her mouth. He hears Frigga’s echoing gasp, and Loki is so pale Odin cannot see how he remains standing. 

He sighs heavily. “I do not wish to appear unfeeling. But this is our reality. Taliesin, child, because agreements were made long ago, long before your birth, you have no choice in the matter.” He glances at Frigga, hoping for help, but her eyes are downcast. 

“One purpose of the Yule Ball is to show off all the marriageable youth and maidens in Asgard. Including you, my children. I heard that there may have been a favorable match made last night, Loki, with you and Lady Astrid? She would be an excellent wife for you, my son. Hers is a good family.” 

Loki’s mouth opens, and closes, as both Thor and Taliesin turn to stare at him. He takes a deep breath, and in a strained voice, replies, “you heard lies then, my king. The young lady in question was vapid, and silly. I would strangle her before I would marry her.” 

Frigga drops her face into her hand, as a broad smile breaks out on Thor’s face. Taliesin stares at Loki with her fingers twisting before her, her wings folded tightly on her back. 

“Loki.” Odin rubs his forehead. “Your outrage is misplaced. You, at least, will be allowed to choose whom you marry.” 

“Indeed, sire?” Loki straightens and meet’s Odin’s eye. “Then I choose Lady Taliesin.” 

The silence in the throne room is icy, as nearly everyone in it holds their breath. 

“I am done playing games,” Odin says at last. He turns to Frigga. “In three days’ time you will take the Lady Taliesin, and Lady Sif, and any others of your choosing to Fensalir. There you will instruct them in the ways of goddesses, and women. And politics.” 

He rises from the throne and leaves them without a glance back. 

Thor is standing with his mouth open, looking from Frigga, to Loki, and back. 

Frigga sits with both hands pressed to her mouth, looking at her children with tears in her eyes. 

Taliesin weeps softly, head down, arms at her sides, wings tucked tight against her back. 

“So,” Loki says. “You are sending Tali away.” 

“No, no, my son,” Frigga replies, her voice choked. “Fensalir is my home, where I was born. There is a longhouse some days from here where I grew up. It is customary for young goddesses, young women, to be raised separately from the men. By an older teacher, like myself.” 

“She is well past her first moon blood, Mother,” he replies coldly. “You would have taken her two or three years ago. He is punishing us. Why?” 

“Loki.” Frigga lifts her head and regards him with tear-filled eyes. “He is the Allfather. He is the ruler of Asgard and the nine realms. He is thinking of old treaties that he is responsible for upholding.” 

“He is punishing me!” Loki shouts. “He stole me from my home, from my birthright, and now he punishes me for that?” He draws in a sobbing breath. “And what do you think will happen, when someone else tries to touch her? Mother, if anyone’s hand, besides my own, lights on her wing – what then? It will bring her down, you know that. Hurt her. And me.” He holds out an imploring hand. “Mumma, please.” There are tears on his face. 

Frigga squeezes her hands so tightly together her fingernails cut her palms and draw blood. Her face, too, streams with tears. “He is your king, Loki,” she whispers. 

Loki whirls and grabs Taliesin by the hand, virtually dragging her from the hall. Frigga only watches them go, sobbing quietly. 

Stunned, Thor moves to her and sits at her feet. “Mum,” he says softly. “Mother, you know they belong to each other. Since the day we found her and brought her home. Why can’t we let them be together?” 

“A treaty,” she whispers. “A treaty written long before any of you were born.” 

Taliesin stumbles as Loki pulls her out of the throne room. He helps her up but does not slow his pace as he heads to their rooms. He stops and turns her to face him. “Go to your room,” he whispers. “Put on your warmest clothes, as if we were going to play in the snow. Ask your Ama to pack some fruit and water. Tell her it’s for four of us.” 

He pauses, registering the shock and dismay on her face. “Tali,” he says, touching her face. “My love?” 

“Yes, yes,” she says breathlessly. “I will.” 

He pulls her into a tight hug. “Tali, my dearest love, we will have some time together, alone, yes?” 

“Alright, Loki.” Her smile trembles. 

“Don’t let Ama see you crying, sweetheart, or we will not be able to get out of the palace. Alright?” Before she can answer he bends to kiss her, touching her lips with his tongue. “Trust me, love, please?” 

“I trust you, Loki,” she says in a small voice. 

“Then go, love. Wait for me there.”


	14. Taliesin’s Loss

After an hour’s hard gallop, Loki and Taliesin reach the shores of the Great Lake. Only then does Loki allow the horse to slow. “Well done, my Bravo.” He reaches around Taliesin to pat the animal’s neck. “You are a hero.” 

Taliesin looks behind them. “It’s snowing harder. Most of our tracks are covered already.” 

“Good.” Loki’s breath steams in the frozen air. “Your Ama packed us enough food for a week! Even if we get a blizzard we’ll be alright. If not, we may have to eat each other.” He bends to nip Taliesin’s neck, bringing a peal of laughter. Since leaving the palace their moods are lifted, and both are very nearly light hearted. 

“There.” Loki points to a dark building on the lake’s opposite shore. “Hogun told Thor about this. They use it sometimes for hunting, but it’s empty now.” 

The horse ploughs through the snow, which has gotten deeper as they go. In front of the longhouse, Loki helps Taliesin dismount. She immediately sinks into snow almost up to her neck. 

Loki nearly falls off Bravo in his rush to rescue her, landing on his side and close to disappearing into the drifts. Taliesin offers her hand, and Loki takes it, bringing her down, face first in the snow next to him. They are both giggling unrestrainedly by now, their efforts to rise hindered by their hilarity as well as their efforts to bury each other deeper under the guise of helping each other up. After several minutes of play, Loki hears Taliesin’s teeth chattering. “Come, my love, let this not be where we die together. Let’s get inside.” They lean on Bravo, who patiently bears their weight against his legs. It takes several pushes for Loki to get the door open, for the three of them to get inside. 

“See if you can start a fire. I’ll settle Bravo.” 

The house is pitch dark and they must feel their way around. Loki makes his way to the end of the house, where the inside stall is. The hunters would not leave their mounts, nor their dogs, to the elements, and so a portion of the longhouse is designed to shelter animals. He unsaddles the horse and puts a bag of feed on him. “Good, strong Bravo,” Loki whispers, kissing the horse’s nose. “I will bring you water.” 

Taliesin has found the fireplace, with kindling waiting. She struggles briefly with the flintstone she found on the hearth before getting the twigs and bark shavings to light. She adds logs to the fire, watching as Loki unpacks their saddle bags. “Are you hungry?” He asks. 

“Not yet. Just cold.” 

Loki smiles, leaning over her to kiss the top of her head. He looks around the sparsely furnished room, where there is a small, unbalanced table, and a little bed with several folded blankets on it. “Come here.” He leads her to the bed. “Take your boots and coat off, and free your wings.” 

She does, and begins to shiver so hard Loki laughs. He picks her up and tosses her onto the bed. “Blankets,” he points, and strips his coat and shirts to his skin. He tugs his boots off and joins Taliesin, dressed only in his trousers. They clutch one another and snuggle until the shaking subsides. “Better?” Loki whispers. 

“Yes.” Taliesin turns her face up to his. “Come closer so I can kiss you.” 

“Gladly, my love.” 

Later, as the fire is subsiding, Loki girds himself to brave the cold, get out of bed, and replenish it. He takes several deep, dramatic breaths, amusing Taliesin, then scrambles out of the bed, bare-footed and –chested. He runs first to check on Bravo, who is sleeping with one back foot cocked, in the dark. He puts two large logs on the fire, then runs to climb back into the bed. He carefully bends his knees so that he can put his icy feet against Taliesin’s skin. The shock is so great she cannot even scream. “What?” He asks innocently. 

“Brute!” She gasps, reaching one hand down beneath the blankets to pinch or tickle him. Her hand lands errantly between his legs, causing them both to freeze, gazing wide-eyed at each other. 

“I’m sorry!” But as she begins to pull her hand away he captures it in his own. 

“Leave it,” he whispers, pulling her closer. 

Blushing, she holds him, instinct guiding her to squeeze his hardness, but gently. She cannot meet his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” she says to his chest. “There’s more than this, isn’t there, Loki?” 

“Yes.” He groans, in ecstasy, and pain. “Much more.” 

“Show me.” 

“Ah, Tali.” Loki pulls her hand away. He grinds his teeth, breathing hard, waiting for his erection to subside. “Allfather would have me hanged. Or banished.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Loki rolls onto his back with his arm over his eyes. “You heard him. Royal family, obligations, the Vanir.” 

She pulls away from him so abruptly he is startled. She sits up, looking at him, tears forming. “You would let them?” 

“Tali?” He sits up and reaches for her, but she pushes him away. 

“You’ll let them give me to someone else?” She climbs out of the bed, barefoot, shivering. “I thought you loved me, Loki.” She stumbles to the fireplace to sit on the hearth and puts her arms around her drawn knees. “You called me your queen.” She begins to cry. “I believed you.” 

“Tali!” Loki is astounded by this turn. “Taliesin, my love! You know I love you – how can you not know that?” 

“I thought you were bringing me here to save me!” She sobs. Her wings fold around her. “But this is just to say goodbye, isn’t it? Take me back. Now. So they can have me and be done with it and I won’t have to see you any more.” She cries so hard it frightens him.

Loki falls to his knees beside her. Despite the fire, they are both shivering. Her words hurt him, but he cannot think of what to say. He wants to touch her, but knows instinctively not to. Head down, Taliesin cries heartbrokenly until she is exhausted, her teary storm ending with a huge yawn that at one time would have set them both to giggling. She crouches with her head between her knees, wings covering her. Loki feels a pain in his chest, seeing in her posture the lonely, abandoned child he found so long ago. “Tali, my love. My heart. Please.” He feels tears start in his own eyes. 

“I didn’t know anything could hurt so much,” she whispers. “Take me back.” 

Loki rises. “If I touch you, there will never be anyone else for you, do you understand? There will be no king to love you, no kingdom to rule! You will only ever be queen of my heart.” 

She sits up. “I don’t want to be anyone else’s queen!” She shouts at him. “Why would you ever think that?” 

He stares at her for a moment, then begins to pace, thinking aloud. “We won’t be able to stay in Asgard. Perhaps, perhaps Heimdall will let us go on the Bifrost. We could go to, I don’t know, Midgard?” 

When she doesn’t answer he lifts her from the floor and takes her back to the bed. “Here, cover up, you’re freezing.” He gets in beside her. She is watching him, her eyes and nose red from weeping. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” He pulls blankets over them, and holds her close. “But you know I love you, Taliesin. You have to know that.” 

“But you’re going to let the Vanir take me away, to marry a stranger.” Her voice breaks. 

“Listen to me. It would be your only way to be a real queen. Because, unless you marry Thor, that’s not going to happen.” He hopes she will laugh. She doesn’t. 

“Your queen,” she murmurs, turning so she is facing away from him. “I only ever wanted to be yours.” To his relief, she pulls his arms around her, clutching his hands on her breast. 

They are both quiet. Loki feels her wings pressing against his chest as he nuzzles her hair. He takes a deep breath and comes to a decision. “You have to be very sure. Once you’ve made the choice there is no going back. 

“I will make you my queen, right now, if you so will it, my lady.” 

Taliesin turns so that she is facing him. “We’ll be together then? Always?” 

“Yes. But they will probably banish us, Taliesin. If I take you, they won’t be able to marry you to anyone else. That will void the treaty and spoil their plans and we would never see Asgard again. Once we make the choice we can’t undo it. But we will be together.” 

“Then that is what I want, Loki.” 

He sighs with relief, feeling a sudden rush of emotion now that the decision is made. “Taliesin Odinsdottir, will you be my wife?” When she nods, her eyes fixed on his, he pulls his signet from his finger, placing the gold ring with its green gems on her finger. “We’ll exchange swords, and vows, later,” he promises, kissing her lightly on the mouth. 

She regards the ring, which is too big on her finger. She moves it to her thumb and looks at Loki. “We’re married now? Is that all?” 

“Oh no, it’s not all.” Loki rolls onto his back, pulling Taliesin on top of him. “Now you must give something to me, my love. A gift that, once given, can never be taken back.” 

She is puzzled, trusting. “I will give you anything.” 

“More, Tali. The more you asked me about. 

“Mum read us a story once, that had a part I didn’t understand at the time. The mother of a woman who was about to be married told her that on her wedding night, she ‘would lie down a maiden, and rise a wife.’“ He looks into her eyes. “Do you understand what that means? You must be very certain, my love.” 

“Oh Loki.” She smiles. “If it means you and I can stay together, I am nothing but certain.” 

He pulls her face close to his, breathes into her mouth, then kisses her. Gently, at first, but with increasing hunger and heat as she responds in kind. “Come, my love, my wife. I want to feel your skin against mine.” He is already so hard he aches. He helps her remove her blouse and under blouse, kissing her fiercely as he feels her bare breasts against his chest. 

He shifts them again so that now she is beneath him, smiling, her hands tangled in his long hair. They exchange a look, and he is thrilled by the anticipation he sees in her eyes. She is not afraid of him, nor what is about to happen, and knowing that frees a wildness within him. He kisses her throat, then lowers his head to take her breast in his mouth. He teases it with his tongue, using his lips to pinch the nipple. 

The sound she makes lights a fire in his veins. He moves lower, kissing and licking her belly to the panty line. “Now,” he breathes. “Off with your skirt. And your stockings and smalls.” He worries that this might be a little difficult for her, but she pleases him by pulling off the rest of her clothing without hesitation. Further, she surprises him by taking his hand and pressing it firmly between her legs. She is hot there, and dripping wet. He massages her, as she moans softly, then deftly slides two fingers inside her. 

Taliesin cries out and buries her face in Loki’s neck. He strokes her, softly, then with more force, then stops abruptly to rise to his knees to pull off his trousers. That done, he lowers himself so that his face is between her legs. She squeaks when his tongue touches her there, licking her, sucking, until she squirms beneath him, panting his name. He pushes his mouth into her soft folds, then gently puts his thumb inside her. He strokes her, more and more rapidly, using his tongue, sucking harder, until he feels her muscles clench and contract repeatedly, and her sweet juices spill onto his tongue and into his mouth. 

He is very nearly undone when she screams his name. 

She is panting as he lifts himself on top of her. He crouches over her, kissing her face. “Take me in your hand, sweetheart,” he breathes, directing her. “There, now, my love, put it inside you.” He is so hard and in such desperate need he is not sure he can be as gentle with her as he should be. “Easy, my love,” he coaches. “It will only hurt for a moment. You must tell me if you want me to stop.” He prays she will not. Once again this goddess he adores surprises him by arching her back and thrusting her hips until he is in her as deeply as possible. She wraps her legs around his waist and matches his movements, pulling him into her, stroking his hardness with her softness, moaning, bringing him to a bliss he never dreamed possible. 

Loki is lost in a wash of exquisite sensation, pressing his face to Taliesin’s neck as he comes with a savage shudder. His climax tightens every muscle in his body. When he can relax, he gasps against her for a minute, fearful of raising his head, fearful of shedding the tears he feels stinging his eyes. 

They lay quietly, catching their breath. At last Loki tentatively asks, “Are you alright, my love? Did you, did, I mean, did I hurt you?” 

He does not expect her laugh. “Hurt? That was the best thing I’ve ever felt. I didn’t think anything could feel better than when you kiss me.” She stretches a little beneath him, tightens her nether muscles around him, and moans. “You belong there,” she whispers. “Inside me.” 

“Yes. Yes,” he breathes. 

She does it again, contracting the muscles inside of her, between her legs, gently squeezing the part of Loki still inside her. She hums with pleasure. 

Loki’s eyes roll back in his head. “Gods, Taliesin!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She stops so abruptly he slips out of her. “Oh, boo. Was I hurting you?” 

He snickers. “Oh yes, darling. Your hot, wet, velvet soft quim stroking my cock is very painful. Do it again, will you?” 

“Can’t. You fell out.” 

Loki is overwrought with emotion, tangled in bed with his love after experiencing the intimacy with her he’s craved since she became a woman. Her comment evaporates his self control and he begins to laugh. He rolls to his side and laughs until he is out of breath. 

Taliesin reaches down between them to find and take his hand. “Am I your wife now, Loki?” 

He turns on his side to touch her face. “You are, my little love. My wife. My queen. My Valhalla.” He kisses her. “We’ll have a proper wedding, when we can. We’ll exchange swords. And vows. And have guests, and a feast.” He sobers then, thinking about returning to the palace. She’s humming under her breath against his neck. 

“Where’s the ring, love?” He asks. “Put it on your left hand, there. Now give it to me.” Loki folds her hand with the too-big ring into his own, and a cool green light sparkles near her fingers. When he takes his hand away, the ring is fitted perfectly to her finger. 

“There,” he says again. “That won’t come off, ever, unless you or I ask it to.” 

She admires the ring on her hand, then smiles at him. “Loki, can we do it again?” 

At the gateway to Asgard, Heimdall the All-Seeing leans on his sword before the Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge. Ten trillion lives in the universe, and he sees them all. He knows, of course, that he has a visitor before she has herself announced. 

He turns to face the queen. “My lady.” He bows. “I am honored.” 

“Thank you, Heimdall,” Frigga replies. “This is not a social visit, I fear.” 

“No, my lady. How may I help?” 

She hesitates, moving closer. “My friend, where are my children?” 

Heimdall turns, his gaze losing focus. “Your son, Thor, is in the palace. He is sitting in a room and appears to be doing – nothing.” 

“Yes. As I left him.” Silence stretches between them. Then, “Heimdall.” 

The watcher sighs. “They are together. They are safe.” 

Frigga nods. “Where are they?" 

“In an empty longhouse, at the Great Lake.” 

As nearly silent as it is, Heimdall hears the breath of relief slip from Frigga’s lips. “And?” 

Heimdall turns his unseeing gaze toward her. “I am privileged, my lady, to see everything. I am burdened with balancing that gift with guarding the privacy and dignity of those I see.” 

“Please, Heimdall.” Frigga’s voice trembles. 

He sighs again, lowering his head. “I believe they are very much in love, my lady. They are so young. So healthy. So beautiful. Please, do not ask me more.” 

Heimdall turns to face Frigga, who gazes silently at him. He looks down at his feet. “I will say, they are going to find it very difficult to sit astride that horse for the ride back to the palace.” 

For a moment, Heimdall thinks he has gone too far. A small sound escapes Frigga, and he raises his eyes warily to her face. The queen begins to laugh helplessly. Tears run down her face and she gasps for breath, before waving at Heimdall as she takes her leave. 

Heimdall waits until she is gone to let loose his own laughter.


	15. The Vanir Arrive

Odin faces the Vanir contingent, with Frigga on her throne beside him. Apparently the Vanir do not care for the time consuming courtesies of court. They have arrived during Yule festivities, unannounced. 

“It is time for the fulfillment of our treaty, Allfather.” The leader of the Vanir is Iri Maksson. He stands before the throne with three other Vanir, and one strangely tall, oddly cloaked other. He has introduced none of them. “We come for the winged creature.” 

“As expected,” Odin says. “We have questions before we proceed.” 

“Please.” Iri nods. 

“Why was the child abandoned to die?” Frigga asks. “My sons found her, naked, in the snow. She was freezing. She was hungry, and injured. She would have perished there had they not discovered her, accidentally, in the course of a hunting trip.” 

“Your majesty, the child was not abandoned, but wandered off from her mother, into the woods. Our searches were fruitless. She is, we all are, fortunate your sons happened upon her.” 

“Why now?” Odin is truly curious. “Why do you come for her now?” 

“We need our prophetess,” Iri says simply. 

Odin and Frigga exchange a glance. To their knowledge, Taliesin has never uttered a prophecy. 

“Why do you think this child is she?” 

“The legends, sire.” One of Iri’s companions speaks, spreading his hands before him. “ ‘At the time of the winged child, the Oracle will speak,’ “ he quotes. 

It occurs to Odin that the two might not be one and the same, but he refrains from pointing this out to the Vanir. 

“What else?” Frigga say. “There is more?” 

“Yes, my queen,” Iri says slowly. “There is.” 

“Well?” Odin's voice echoes through the throne room, followed by a dry chuckle from the unknown, cloaked visitor. 

“They owe her to me,” a deep voice answers. The cloaked one steps forward, removing his hood. There is no sound in the throne room, except for the guards moving closer to the thrones and standing to attention. “I am Alvadi, of Jotunheim. Brother of Laufey.” 

“I know it,” states Odin. “Why are you here?” 

“Simply to ensure that our agreement with the Vanir goes as it should. The winged person is a tribute to Jotunheim, in return for our withdrawal from Vanaheim. An agreement between those realms. Nothing to do with Asgard except that Asgard must hand her over. Bring her to me and I will be gone.” 

White-faced, Frigga stands. “Our agreement was not to give her to the Jotunn.” 

“No.” Iri speaks up. “You will give her to us. And we will give her to them.” 

Frigga looks to Odin for help, but he does not meet her eyes. She turns back to the delegation. “We were not expecting you,” she says pointedly. “She is not in the palace. She is away with friends, and will return in a day or two. You will have to wait.” 

They watch, silently, as she turns her back and leaves them. They have no choice but to wait.


	16. Thor’s Warning

Loki is lying on his back with Taliesin’s head on his chest. As he winds and unwinds a long lock of her silver hair around his fingers, her wingtip gently strokes his side, from rib to thigh. “Loki,” she murmurs. 

“Love?” 

“I want to try something.” She lifts her head to look into his eyes. 

He cannot help but laugh, as they have been trying many things for the last few hours. “As you wish, my lady. I didn’t think there was anything left to try.” 

She smiles. “I think you don’t really think that. But I don’t know exactly what to do, so help me?” 

Loki was gratified to find that his lover is adventurous and unafraid in bed, and as eager to please him as he is to please her. They agreed to be open to each other’s guidance in that respect, and it had paid off in some fairly spectacular sensations. 

“Surely, my love. Now, what - “ 

Before he can finish she is sliding down, kissing and nipping at his ribs. He is instantly hard, though he dares not hope she is thinking the same as he. He grips her hair as she slips lower, to kiss his hip, then his navel. “Open up.” She taps the inside of his thigh and he obligingly spreads his legs. 

She starts at his knee, kissing the inside of his leg, slowly, all the way up. When she puts her tongue on his balls, Loki nearly levitates from the bed and the sound he makes stops her. She looks up, but his eyes are closed and he is visibly clenching his teeth. “I’m sorry. Is that bad? Did it hurt?” 

“Hurt?” Loki gasps. “What makes you think that would hurt?” 

“Well, there was that time Thor kicked you there, and it took you a very long time to get up off the ground.” 

He opens his eyes and raises his head to look at her. “Just don’t kick me there, darling. Use your lips, your tongue, your fingers. But, just, be gentle.” 

“Like this?” She slowly drags her tongue up from his balls to the base of his cock, and then further up. “I want to do to you what you did to me.” Now Loki is unable to speak, clutching her hair tighter as she takes his cock into her mouth. Instinctively she moves her head the way he taught her to use her hand there. “Tell me what to do,” she whispers. 

“Icicles,” he gasps. 

“What?” 

“When we pull icicles off the roof. You know - ” 

It takes her a moment, then she reaches to stroke his balls gently with her thumb. Taking his cock into her mouth as far as she can, she begins to suck. Loki’s moan is long and loud. She takes this as a sign that all is well and continues to suck, and suck harder, coming up occasionally for air and to circle the tip with her tongue. 

His muscles are so tense he’s trembling. Abruptly, he moves his hands from her hair to her shoulders. “Stop,” he whispers. “Stop now.” Confused, she looks up him as he tries to pull her up. “Come up here.” 

“But - “ 

“I’m going to come. Please, Tali.” With her cooperation, he grasps her bottom, lifts her, and eases her down onto his cock. He pulls her down so her face is close to his. “You are my queen. I will only spill my seed in your womb, beloved.” 

“Loki, my king.” She smiles at him and he kisses her roughly. 

“Now,” he whispers, urgently. “Now.” 

They come together for the first time. 

They are sleeping, soundly, Taliesin on her back with Loki sprawled across her, when the horse first nickers, then whinnies loudly in greeting. Confused, Loki opens his eyes, unable to see much in the dim firelight. “Bravo?” Raising his head, he is contemplating rising when the door of the cabin suddenly bursts open. 

Loki is on his feet, and whoever has come through the door is slammed against the far wall with cool green fire surrounding them. “Tali!” He hisses, hands poised before him to cast another spell. 

Taliesin is awake, wide-eyed. After a shocked moment she thinks to reach to the floor near the bed, looking for Loki’s sword or her dagger in their scattered clothing. 

A loud grunt comes from the figure on the floor, which is shaking its head, climbing with difficulty to its feet. “Gods, Brother, will you hold?” 

Loki drops his hands, astounded. “Thor?” 

“Of course, Brother, who did you think?” Thor brushes himself off and reaches to shut the door. 

“What? What are you doing here?” 

“You’re naked,” Thor points out, unnecessarily. “And it’s very cold in here. Hello, Tali!” He moves to the fire. 

Loki sits heavily on the bed. “Thor.” 

Thor tosses a huge log onto the fire, then stands, grinning. “You two are in so much trouble.” 

Loki can barely order his thoughts. He begins to pull on his stockings and trousers. “Would you mind,” he says coldly, “turning your back, so that my lady may dress?” 

“She’s naked too?” Thor crows. “Oh this just gets better.” He puts his hands on top of his head, chuckling as he turns his back to them. “Allfather will have your heads.” 

“What are you talking about?” Loki helps Taliesin tuck her wings into her under blouse, and they finish dressing. “Allright.” Loki sits to pull on his boots. “You can turn around now.” 

Thor turns, and becomes serious. “We have trouble, Brother. The Vanir came, yesterday, to collect Tali. Mother told them she is away, hunting with friends. They want her back by tomorrow, or the treaty will be broken, they say.” He sits at the rickety table near the fire. “Father is very angry, Loki. Mother knew I would know where you are. She asked me to come warn you.” 

Loki bites the side of his finger, thinking. “Thor, will you help us? Do you think Heimdall will help us?” 

“What are you thinking, Brother?” 

Loki doesn’t want Taliesin to know how relieved he is that his big brother is here with them. Loki has always been the thinker, the planner; Thor the follower, the brawn. The brothers have watched over each other since they could walk and Loki is comforted by Thor’s presence. Now, he says, “Do you think Heimdall will open the Bifrost for us?” 

“The Bifrost?” Thor is puzzled. “Why?” 

“We have to go somewhere, Thor. If we go back to the palace, they’ll give Tali to the Vanir. Who knows what they’ll do to me.” 

“Where would we go?” Taliesin asks. 

“I’m not sure yet. Midgard, maybe.” 

“Midgard.” Thor snorts. “It’s full of mortals.” 

“Any place that’s not Asgard will be full of mortals, Thor,” Loki points out. “But we look like most of them. We’ll fit in.” 

Thor scoffs. “You’re gods, Loki! How do you think two lost gods will fit in, in a world of mortals? I have a better idea, Brother. 

“Step outside with me, will you? I must make water or burst.” 

Thor pulls the heavy door open. As he follows, Loki looks at Taliesin. “Get our packs together, please. We’ll be right in, and I’ll saddle Bravo.” 

Thor and Loki stand side by side in the trees. There is no time to write their names in the snow as they would have almost any other time. “Loki,” Thor says, his tone serious. “There is more that I didn’t want to say in front of Tali.” 

Loki hisses as his stream begins, causing Thor to raise an eyebrow. 

_Back at the gates of Asgard, Heimdall chuckles._

Loki waves Thor off. “It’s nothing. Tali is strong, Thor. She can help us.” 

“I know.” Thor tucks himself in and laces his trousers. “But I think my plan will work better if she knows nothing about it. 

“Loki, once they have her, the Vanir are giving her to Jotunheim.” 

Loki freezes in the act of lacing his drawers. He turns a pale face to Thor. He opens his mouth, but cannot form words. 

“Fear not, Brother.” Thor places an encouraging hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I have talked with Sif, and my three warriors. Oh, and Bjorn. You remember Bjorn? Big fellow. He came to apologize to me again after the Yule Ball. We can use another big man.” 

Loki wonders whether he is truly awake. Since Thor kicked the cabin door open, nothing has seemed real. “Jotunheim,” he whispers. “Bjorn.” 

“Quickly now. Let me tell you what we must do.” 

When the brothers return to the longhouse, Taliesin has Loki’s and her saddlebags ready, and has refolded all the blankets on the little bed. Thor strides over to her as Loki saddles his horse. “Little sister! You don’t look any different!” He laughs heartily at his joke, which she does not understand. He gives her a hug. “My little baby, all grown up.” 

“Stop!” She pounds ineffectually on his chest while he laughs. “Thor,” she whispers. “Please keep him safe.” 

Subdued, Thor pulls back. “I intend to keep you both safe, Taliesin,” he promises. He turns to Loki. “It’s stopped snowing. I’ll go now, and break a path for you. Give me a little time to get ahead.” 

He looks at Taliesin sitting on the bed. Thor’s great heart is moved by the fear on her face. “Tali.” He kneels before her, taking her hands in his. “No one must know I came here. You cannot tell anyone you saw me.” She nods miserably, and Thor kisses her cheek. He stands. “Well, Brother.” 

Loki turns from cinching Bravo’s saddle. “Well, Thor?” 

Discomfited by the fear and pain his friends, his beloved brother and sister, are feeling, Thor embraces Loki, picking him up completely off the ground. He finds scant joy, today, in his attempt to irritate his brother. He drops Loki and heads for the door. “Don’t forget.” He winks at Taliesin and claps Loki on the shoulder. “I was not here.” 

The cabin is preternaturally quiet in Thor’s absence. Loki has finished with the horse and joins Taliesin on the bed, taking her hand in his. “What are you thinking, love?” 

She is struggling not to cry. “What’s going to happen to us? You and Thor are keeping something from me.” She cannot meet his eyes. 

“Do you remember when you were very little, I once told you I would never lie to you.” 

She nods. 

“Thor has a plan to help us. It will work best if you don’t know about it.” It hurts Loki to see her fear. “Sweetheart.” He puts a finger under chin to raise her head. “We’re going to be alright,” he promises, hoping it’s not a lie. 

They hold each other silently as the minutes crawl by. Finally, Loki stands and brings Taliesin up after him. He leads Bravo outside, then cups his hands to boost her into the saddle. She loudly sucks air in through her teeth, looking at Loki with huge eyes. “Oh, ouch.” 

“What?” 

“I think, maybe, we did it too much.” 

Loki snorts. “No such thing as too much of that, sweetheart.” He puts his foot in the stirrup and lifts himself onto the horse’s back behind her. He grunts and instantly rises in the stirrups, so that he is not sitting in the saddle. “Oh, shit,” he says, clearly. “Ow.” He gingerly lowers himself, grimacing. He and Taliesin have identically pained expressions on their faces, which makes them laugh at each other, while they wince at every movement the horse makes. 

_And at the gates of Asgard, Heimdall is laughing._


	17. The Jotnar Takes Taliesin

On the return to the palace, Taliesin has shifted in the saddle, both to ease her aching nether parts, and to snuggle against Loki’s chest. He holds her close, with his lips pressed to her hair. Bravo steps through the snow, from the tree line, and the palace comes into view. Loki feels his heart begin to pound. He looks down at Taliesin, who is dozing. “Tali, my love,” he says softly. “Tali. Wife.” 

She smiles up at him. “Husband?” 

“I need you to hear me, my dearest love. We are nearly home. I don’t want you to forget that everything will be alright. I will take care of you. Thor will take care of you.” He sees the alarm forming in her eyes, as they near the keep. He notices an unusual number of guards in the area, and turns her face up to his. “Taliesin, my love, my wife, my heart. Never forget that I love you more than anything – more than life.” Before she can respond there are hands everywhere. Hands on Bravo, on his reins, hands on Loki’s boot in the stirrup, hands on Taliesin’s leg. 

Guards and stable hands are pulling from all directions and Loki is standing on the ground before he can make a conscious move. He has Taliesin gripped tightly in his arms. “Stand back!” He shouts, and they do. “I am the son of Odin! How dare you put your hands on me!” 

A guard, older than the rest, steps forward, even as Bravo is lead away. “My apologies, my Lord Prince. We have orders from the king your father to detain you.” He motions to the others, and Loki is held firmly by four different men, losing his grip on Taliesin. 

Taliesin tries to push through them, reaching for him, but she is driven roughly back. Seeing this, Loki goes slightly mad. “Keep your hands off her!” He screams. “If you touch the princess again you will be cursed for twenty generations!” His green eyes flame and his long black hair flies about his face. The guards fall back, and none stands nearer than a meter to Taliesin. 

There are so many guards Taliesin cannot even see Loki amongst them. The remaining guards and stable hands avoid her eyes, moving on about their business as if she were not standing in their midst. She turns and bolts into the palace. She dashes through the halls and turns into the passageway leading to her rooms, where she runs headlong into Frigga. 

“Taliesin!” The queen cries. “My darling, my child!” She sweeps the girl into her embrace. “You’re safe!” 

Taliesin pulls free, gazing wildly into Frigga’s eyes. “Safe? Mumma, I was with Loki. Why would you think I was anything but safe?” 

Frigga shakes her head and pulls Taliesin to her room. “We have very little time. Ama! A bath, please, and hurry.” She drops Taliesin’s hand and moves to her wardrobe. “Darling. I don’t know how to tell you this...which of these do you think?” 

Taliesin is too rattled to realize Frigga is in the same state. Now she is talking to herself, as Taliesin watches in a daze. “Oh, this one, I think! The green is so beautiful on you! But no, not green. This one, then, the blue one - “ 

“Mumma!” Taliesin’s panicked tone catches Frigga’s attention. “They’ve arrested Loki! What is happening? Are the Vanir here? Is Father sending me away?” 

Frigga gently lays the gown she’s holding on Taliesin’s bed. She folds her hands before her and looks up. “Tali. This is so hard. I don’t know how else to say it. You must be prepared to go with the Vanir.” 

Taliesin’s legs give out and she sits, with a thump, on the floor. “Mother. Are you really going to let them take me away?” 

The Ama speaks quietly. “The bath is ready, my lady.” She does nothing to hide the tears streaming down her face. 

“Come, Tali.” Frigga gestures and coaxes Taliesin to her feet. She is so dazed that Frigga is almost forced to carry her to the bath. She waves the Ama away, so that she may care for her daughter herself. “Tali,” she whispers. “We will get you back. We will.” 

Gently bathing Taliesin’s neck and shoulders, she regards the gossamer wings, folded tightly against the girl’s back. She longs to touch them, to massage them, to help them unfurl into their natural beauty. But she knows if she does that she will further weaken Taliesin. And Loki. 

Loki would be affected too. And wherever he is right now, Frigga knows he needs all the strength he has. 

Odin sits, not on his throne, but on the high bench in the mead hall to receive his uninvited, not-too-welcome visitors. The choice is no accident. Servants move busily around the room, replacing and refreshing Yule decorations. It is the fourth day of festivities and Odin does not object to reminding the Vanir delegation of the fact that they are bringing grief to the Aesir’s royal family during what should be a time of joy and celebration. 

A page stops briefly at the king’s side to whisper a message. Odin nods. “The queen will arrive momentarily,” he tells the visitors. 

“And the winged one?” The deep, not-Vanir voice speaks from the back of the group. 

“Lady Taliesin will be with her,” Odin asserts. “If you will indulge me, Alvadi, why are the Jotunn taking this maiden from the Vanir?” 

The Jotnar stands. “I will indulge you, Allfather, as payment for your courtesy. The Jotunn are not taking her, I am. With the Oracle prophesied by the Vanir and the Jotunn in my hands, there can be no further resistance to me taking the throne vacated by my brother's death, as Jotunheim’s rightful king.” 

“The Aesir are the one race amongst us whose lore does not foretell the coming of an Oracle,” Iri Maksson offers helpfully. “We included this – ah – transaction in the treaty for that reason. None were told where the Oracle would be born, so we Vanir needed to ensure that she would come into our hands, wherever she began.” 

He looks sideways at Alvadi. “We have great need for an oracle, but our need to get the Jotunn off Vanaheim is greater. So we gave them it.” 

“Pitiful, I think, Iri,” Odin responds testily. “Instead of fighting for your freedom, for yourselves, for your homes, you sacrifice a child?” 

“Well, sire,” Iri replies softly. “One life, in exchange for thousands? Maybe more?’ 

He is spared the fire of Odin’s retort by the arrival of Frigga and Taliesin. Frigga is calm and clear eyed, Taliesin pale and subdued. With much pleading and coaxing by the queen, her wings are fully extended and she holds her head high. 

A low moan comes from one of the unidentified, heretofore-silent Vanir. The woman presses her hands to her mouth. “My child, oh, my child.” 

Iri moves to silence the woman but a gesture from Odin stops him. 

“They lied to you,” she says, looking directly at Frigga. “She was not lost.” 

“What are you saying?” Frigga has unconsciously laid her hand on Taliesin’s arm. 

The woman’s voice grows louder. “I did not lose her. She did not wander from me.” 

“The creature’s mother,” Iri announces. “Hildr. She is, ah, confused.” 

Taliesin’s eyes are huge, regarding the woman who birthed her. She presses more closely to Frigga. “Iri,” Frigga says, anger evident in her tone. “She is not a ‘creature.’ She is a maiden. She is a goddess. And I’m certain this woman is not ‘confused.’ “ 

She continues, gentling her tone. “What did happen, Hildr?” Her sweet face shows the pain she is feeling, the pain she shares with the Vanir woman. 

“I left her out there, in the wood,” Hildr states bluntly. “To die.” 

“But why?” 

“So they wouldn’t have her!” She rounds on Alvadi. “Better for her to die, than to end up in his hands.” 

Alvadi laughs. “And your actions served only to prove my rights – she did not die. And she lives to serve me as I ascend to the throne of Jotunheim.” 

“That’s arguable.” A deep voice sounds from the end of the mead hall. 

The hall is quiet; strangely, all the bustling servants have disappeared. Taliesin’s head whips around. The first thing she notices is Lady Sif, armed and in armor, standing near the door with Thor’s three warriors, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun. She looks to the opposite door, to see Thor, and Bjorn, the big man she remembers from the dance, both armed and armored as well. 

“What makes you think you have a right to the throne of Jotunheim?” The voice sneers. 

Alvadi turns from side to side, searching for the speaker. “What is this?” He growls. “What game are you playing, Odin?” 

Odin lifts a languid hand from the table and shrugs. “I know not, Jotnar. This is not me.” 

“This is not about the Allfather,” the voice says. “It is about you, pretender to the throne. 

“And I. The true, rightful King of Jotunheim.” 

Taliesin’s knees buckle as Loki steps from behind Thor and Bjorn, and Frigga struggles to keep both of them on their feet. Loki is fully armored in green, black, and gold, his horned helmet on his head, a sword at his side and a spear in his hand. “Who are you, exactly?” He challenges the Jotnar. “Who do you think you are?” 

“Who are you, boy?” Alvadi roars, moving toward Loki. 

Loki stops in his tracks. “I am Loki Laufeyson.” 

Alvadi’s mouth snaps shut, and he squints at Loki. “What?” 

“You heard me!” Loki’s voice resounds through the mead hall. “I am Loki, son of Laufey, the rightful King of Jotunheim.” 

“You?” Alvadi laughs, then turns to Odin. “What is this, Allfather? Who is this boy, playing at being a man?” 

Odin shrugs again. “You heard him. He is Loki, son of Laufey. I know this is so, as I myself brought him to Asgard from Jotunheim, as an infant. 

“This is your nephew, Alvadi. Son of your brother, the king. The true heir to the throne.” 

There is profound silence in the hall. Thor, Sif, and the others have moved silently and now stand behind Loki, in an armored line. Loki’s hand drops to his sword. “Kneel.” 

“What?” Alvadi’s outraged cry shatters the silence. “You miserable, puny - “ 

Loki moves so fast the Jotnar is unable to react, and the sword is at his throat. “I said kneel, to your king.” 

“Do that, Alvadi,” Odin intones. “All here will testify that this is Jotunheim’s rightful king.” 

Spitting in fury, the Jotnar drops to his knees. “This will not be the end - “ 

“Silence,” Loki commands. “I have no wish to hear your mewling.” He lowers his sword. “I have a proposition for you, Uncle.” 

Alvadi does not respond, merely glaring at Loki. 

“Acknowledge me as your king, here and now,” Loki says, “and I will give you something to assuage your pain.” 

Alvadi is panting in fury. “I - “ 

“This is your best outcome,” Odin says. “You should take the offer.” 

The Jotnar growls, long and loud. “You. Are. King.” 

Loki laughs. “Well enough. I would not want you to choke to death on excessive speech! 

“Now then.” He turns toward Frigga and Taliesin. “Am I right in believing you hoped to claim both? The throne, and the winged beauty?” 

Alvadi grunts. “The Oracle would bind my claim, yes.” 

Loki points his sword at Taliesin. “To bind your claim only? Here is what I offer you, Jotnar. I, as king, will abdicate the throne of Jotunheim, and formally name you as my heir. You forgo your claim to the Oracle, and you will be undisputed king of Jotunheim. The Oracle will remain in Asgard, belonging to none save as she chooses.” 

He meets Taliesin’s eyes for the briefest second. “Yes?” 

Alvadi raises his head. “I will be rightful king?” 

“If you give up any claim to the Oracle, for yourself or the Vanir.” Loki sends a scathing glance at Iri. “And you will leave Asgard and Vanaheim in peace, forevermore.” 

Alvadi nods. “Agreed.” 

“Then rise, King Alvadi of Jotunheim. You and your company will be afforded safe passage from Asgard, never to return.” Loki turns to Thor. “Escort our guests away. Let the wall guard take them to Heimdall, then return here.” 

Thor grins hugely at his brother, and all are silent as Loki’s friends and guard lead the Vanir and the Jotnar out of the palace. 

Odin speaks first. “Well done, my son. Very well done.” 

Loki turns to Odin and bows. “Thank you, sire.” He turns then to Taliesin, who slides from Frigga’s grip to land with a thud on the floor. He flies to her side, edging Frigga away. “Tali! Taliesin!” 

“Loki, my king!” Trembling, Taliesin uses Loki’s help to rise, and throws her arms around his neck. “You were magnificent!” She murmurs, kissing his neck, his eyes, his face, his hair, and finally, his mouth. 

He puts his mouth to her ear. “You mean as your lover, my darling? Or - “ He is stopped by her laughter, as he steadies her. “Father,” he begins, distracted by her helpless, relieved giggling against his neck. “Our intention is to marry, and start a family. Our hope is to remain in Asgard, as part of your family. So I ask you again, will you grant me the hand of your adopted daughter, Lady Taliesin, in marriage?” 

Odin smiles, and nods. “Yes, my son. She will make a fine wife for you.” Secretly, he is quite impressed by Loki’s handling of the Jotnar. When Thor and Frigga had approached him with what he viewed as a weak, mad scheme, he was certain things would not go as they hoped. He is pleased to have been proven wrong.


	18. Epilogue: Loki’s Oracle

_The prophetess sits near the fire in the library, gazing out at the autumn garden. As goddess of fertility, family, marriage, she is feeling quite content._

__

__

_As she watches, the garden gate opens, and Loki and Taliesin step in, swinging a happy child between them. Laughing, they set the child on his feet. Loki puts his arms around his wife and kisses her head, watching as their son flaps his tiny wings and toddles to his grandmother._

Frigga startles from her vision. She is in the library, sitting by the fire, gazing into the palace’s winter garden. She sighs with contentment. 

Loki and Taliesin are there, unaware, or perhaps uncaring that they can be seen. Loki’s long legs stretch out along a stone bench, and Taliesin sits between them with her back against his chest. Loki’s arms are around her, and his hands cradle her round belly, where their child sleeps.


End file.
